[ there is no world to conquer and tame, no great wrongs and evils that he can fuel his suffering and pain into to turn into a new world, just the two of them in this bathtub. for so long, it had been Louis Guiabern against the world, and he had, through his spite, survived and even flourished; then he had fallen. now the king faces him with pale blue eyes and quiet demands, where no one else had ever dared to make such a move.
but perhaps Louis would only listen to a king – the king.
Louis lifts his head to watch him quietly, his gaze steady on Will who gently picks through the strands of his own stubborn words. he looks rather beautiful while he does it, even strung-thin and exhausted, there is a regal air to Will that Louis cannot deny, even disrobed and flecked with droplets of water. ]
... The world never made a place for me, I always made my own place in the world. If it's your world, perhaps it will be different. If it is as you say, then the time will come for it.
[ there's a small gap between them, and Louis urges Will forward until their lips touch. it's a brief kiss, one meant more to seal a pact than to indulge a desire.
for himself? no. but for Will, now that sounds like something he may be able to do. ]
[ It is not wholehearted acceptance, no, but it is an affirmation of their values — the values that they share between them. Secretly, Will is relieved that Louis has not rejected him outright; part of him had worried that Louis would bristle at the thought of needing someone else to help with his aching heart.
He draws his hand back, lowering it back into the water and then wrapping it around Louis's waist once more. He always feels delightfully small when he's buoyed by the water, held in the arms of the man he loves. Will has not felt well these past few days, no, but at the very least, he has the luxury of feeling safe. Despite everything, despite the enemies lurking behind closed doors and the schemes that would end with the taking of his life — Will feels safe in Louis's arms.
He's smiling sweetly as he settles his cheek upon the man's heart. From what the man has said, he doesn't quite seem ready to let Will's fingers pry his heart out of his chest — but perhaps he will be ready sometime in the future. Tomorrow is always a brighter day in Will's heart, and he will not suffer his beloved to suffer for long. ]
I believe in the future, the same way I believe in you.
[ Firm and resolute, as always. Unyielding, unbending, as always. ]
When we get out of the bath... you can dispel the last of this sickness. And then, I think, we should start planning our wedding.
[ A brief pause. Will lifts his head slightly. ]
No, wait... lunch first. And then we should start planning our wedding.
[ the water creates small waves around them, breaking on limbs and hearts, and Will settles with those words. for now, at least. they float and relax until the water gets lukewarm, and then Louis drops a kingly-sized fluffy towel on Will to dry him off enough so he can change.
he's looking tired, but far more lively. it's a curious thing to know that the treatment has worked, and that the knowledge he had used to turn normal people to monsters has saved the king. while he had used it for healing this time, it meant that it may go deeper than that, and that there are still secrets of the elda that he has not uncovered.
once Louis is dressed he calls for Will's lunch, something simple that's brought in by Hulkenberg. she makes a comment that Will is looking well enough that he may soon get antsy if he remains idle, and Louis can't say that he doesn't agree – Louis is beginning to get antsy, as well.
the last stretch of treatment is not nearly as hard as the night prior, nor are they in need of Eupha's help to finish it. there are a few magla pathways that need rerouting, and others that Louis needs to check remain intact. ]
Come now, stay still for just a moment longer.
[ he says when Will twitches under his touch.
well, it's far more obvious how much touch the treatment requires when the circumstances are not-so-dire, and it's obvious the way that Will shifts a bit beneath it that all thoughts aren't just on healing. such things cross Louis' mind too when he traces the pathway down his sternum to his navel, a warm palm dipping down smooth skin that seems so natural that Louis almost forgets that this isn't foreplay, it's the last in a handful of examinations.
drawing back quickly, he arranges his expression and wonders if he needs another, colder bath later in the day.
now that Will is no longer ill, Louis takes his leave of his chambers, as it no longer seems appropriate to keep Louis Guaibern within the same quarters as the king. not necessarily because the two of them care about their nuptials, but rather, there was a former king that Louis had seen an end to. the current political state needed no more rumors to mill around it until they were married. ]
[ Everything had been so different, somehow, with Eupha no longer in the room with them. When it was just Will and Louis doing the treatment together — the king's attention and eyes only on Louis, only on Louis and no one else — there had been, somehow, a greater intensity of feeling, a heightened sense of tension. Did Louis notice the way that his touch made Will's breath catch in his throat? The way he'd pressed his legs together, wanting, as Louis's hand slid down his belly and traced the dip of his navel? Somehow, even the pain and discomfort had been lessened from the day before. Will ended the session exhausted, too warm, and too flustered. Sinking into his cool bed afterward had been a comfort.
In the evening, when "Louis Guiabern" has left the king's chambers, Will regrets not keeping the man in the room with him. Somehow, he finds that his bed has become too big for his body alone.
The rumors that circulate around the palace go something like this:
The king was sick for the last few days. Most of the royal doctors can confirm this, and have been loudly griping their misfortunes, as the king's chief of staff was given direct instructions from one of the Six Partisans (or was it the king's fairy companion?) to have them all fired. Some of these former doctors claim that Louis Guiabern himself removed them; one young chef was even claiming in the palace kitchens that Louis threw them out of the king's room by his own hand, though this seems likely to be an exaggeration. Still others are still uncertain of precisely what role Louis is occupying in court. He is not the state army general or the court archmage, so under what title is the King keeping him? A royal advisor, perhaps? But is that not a dangerous position, for a man who killed the preceding king?
Beyond the fact that King Wilhelm has been ill, no one can agree on how he was treated. Only the Partisans and Louis Guiabern have been seen entering and exiting the king's chamber in recent days, ever since the doctors were dismissed. The palace maidservant (King Wilhelm commented once that they were to be considered "cleaning staff" and not "maidservants," but truthfully, even most of the maidservants still prefer to call themselves maidservants) normally assigned to clean the King's chamber has confirmed that she was reassigned to another section of the palace — to protect her own health, she thought, but as for who gave her that impression, she couldn't say.
There are still other, more outlandish rumors. A gardener working on some of the king's requested adjustments to the garden swore casually, over a few beers with friends, that he saw Louis Guiabern leaning over the king's bed through the window — to kill him, perhaps? Or something else? Kiss him? It wasn't in the gardener's power to stop him, in any case, so he did nothing. Another palace maidservant who eventually came to collect the king's used linens noted stray blond hairs atop the pillowcase and dutifully said nothing — at least until the right hands came with coin and implicit threats. Then, being a very practical woman, she talked.
All of this is to say —
— that as the Prince of Oceana reclines in his seat and sighs, knowing full well that he is in no position to negotiate with the man who once served as church crier and now serves as chairman of parliament, his thoughts are on the only way that these rumors can possibly all tie together. For all that he has been a blundering oaf in the political realm, the Prince is an old man, and not a particularly unintelligent one. There are things about being a young man that he remembers very well, and cheap infatuations are one of them.
"I'll be blunt," the one-eyed Prince begins, folding his hands atop his lap.
"I like that in a guy, sure," Batlin drawls casually with his hands in his pockets, mostly to make the Prince uneasy, and something in the irreverent sarcastic compliment does seem to make the old man somewhat unmoored.
After a light cough, the roussainte tries again. "This... talk of the young King and Louis. What have you heard of it?"
"Only what others have told me," the redheaded clemar quips. "I've also been told that you've been snooping around trying to find out what the situation is."
"I have the king's best interests at heart," the Prince of Oceana claims.
"Do you?" Batlin asks. "Because I've known you for a long time, Your Highness, as my father knew you before me. Seems to me that you only swore fealty to His Majesty because you thought Louis's supporters would come for your head at the time. Tell me, what's it matter to you? Sending eavesdroppers around the castle, bribing maids — never thought you'd stoop so low, really. What are you going to do if the king is shagging Louis?"
"He must see reason," the Prince protests, in a faux-sympathetic tone that implicitly implores Batlin to join him. "He is a boy of only eighteen. I can see why a — glamorous man such as Louis would appeal to him, if indeed he has a predilection for other men. But he knows not what danger he plays with. Louis is not a man content to be a king's toy."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Batlin asks again, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Listen, Your Highness. It's not that I don't understand. I don't trust you, and I don't trust Louis, myself. But I do trust His Majesty's judgment. I'm warning you now, you'd best not try him. He doesn't need me heading parliament to get what he wants."
"Then you will not join me in this?" the Prince demands. "You would allow a boy of eighteen to marry his father's killer, a power-hungry, raving murderer, and put him closer to the throne than us —"
Batlin tuts his tongue against his teeth. "Ah, but that's what this is about, isn't it? Us." Shrugging broad-shouldered as he grins and turns on his heel, the middle-aged clemar manages a jaunty wave as he turns and exits the otherwise-empty parliament chamber, clutching loose sheafs of paper in his hand. "So sorry, Your Highness, if I gave you the wrong impression. There never was an us." ]
[ Louis Guiabern is not unaware of his position: he is not a member of the court, the Partisans, nor holds any office that would allow him authority. that does not mean that power is beyond him, of course, he still has those who support him, those who fear him, and the ear of the king. it puts him in a position where he has nothing to display but his own raw abilities, however it also keeps the vultures guessing. after he had treated the king, the golden bracelets were put back on his wrists, much to his displeasure, but it still comforted those that would fear him.
"They're not all that happy with you," Gallica says.
them meaning the senate, and not all that happy meaning nervous, Louis assumes. though Louis has always made them nervous, shows of self-made power really makes them tremble. they have not forgotten the young lord from their own rebellions, when Louis' grip on the military had brought both Oceana and Montario to their knees.
"Of course they aren't," Louis replies, leaning back in his seat. "There are two minds of this: those that think they can control a boy king, and those that would rather see this nation burn to the ground than an elda sit on the throne. One may serve the other, as they are both means to the same ends for them. Voices that have they have feared in the past are cause for threat, if the engagement is announced, the senate will do all in its powered to delay the ceremony."
"The Prince of Oceana is planning on it, I overheard him talking to Batlin. He thinks that the king is someone who needs to be reasoned with because he's so young," Galica says with obvious distaste in her voice. there was a time when she, too, didn't understand what had gotten into Will, but the more time she spent with Louis, the more she gets it. it's why she's there now, her fairy bottom perched on a pile of books, while Will is meeting with the law makers.
"We must not allow them the chance." Louis taps a quill against a parchment in thought, the tip dry enough to leave a small indent of a dot on the page.
"He's been looking forward to this ever since I heard about it. He deserves to be happy, and not have to wait because of some stupid politics. They'll just pull him into meeting after meeting and make him sign a ton of paperwork. How do we head that off?"
Louis had taken most of Will's excited looks in stride, but now that Gallica lays it so openly, it's hard to ignore. there is complicated feelings regarding himself as the cause of that joy, but he agrees with Gallica: Will should not have to wait for what he wants because of stupid politics.
"We skip the engagement announcement and set a date for the ceremony," Louis says, leaning his temple against his knuckles. "We'll ruffle a few feathers, but save ourselves the headache of their squalling. The public will hardly notice, their intent will be upon the marriage itself and could care little of the details."
"He'd go for that, too."
"It is rather enjoyable when he sets himself aflame," Louis starts. he realizes his slip, and then lifts his gaze to Gallica. "Tell Batlin to have a little fun with them in the interim, and I'll press upon the king my own eagerness for our nuptials."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Eager?" Gallica asks, taking to the air and flitting up next to Louis' face.
"My sentiment favors action," he replies flawlessly. "While I am patient, there are certain things that are best if they come to past sooner rather than later, and it will be in the king's favor that they do."
"Sure sure."
"Send Fidelio in to see me."
Gallica makes an affirmative noise and heads toward the door before she can see the face that he makes.
there's also Louis' own followers to attend to in this matter. while neither Fidelio nor Basilio work for him particularly anymore, they do see reason when it comes to caring for the king. perhaps Fidelio has been a witness to Louis' fondness for Will for so long, that this hardly surprises him – neither of the two believe that Louis, in his current iteration, would harm the king. it's one of the only reasons they currently still listen to him.
when Louis next sees Will, it's for supper after a long day of court and paperwork. ever since he'd been ill, their meetings had been sparser, further in between. it's the nature of the beast, Louis supposes, as Will is the king, and his attention is something demanded by his patrons. ]
If we take to the gauntlet runner again, I'm certain that I'll be blamed for such recklessness. We should take advantage of that and take a trip north.
[ he says absently, knowingly, perhaps as a joke, but perhaps also not. ]
[ Will enjoys being king, but in his heart of hearts, he also knows that this palace will suffocate his ambitions in the long run. This past year he's spent passing policies, ousting corrupt nobles and forcing in his own hand-picked, trusted politicians has been necessary for the country, and he sees that more clearly than his father likely ever did — indeed, sometimes Will suspects that he is even more suited to govern the people than his mother was, as well.
But being good at something, and that thing being necessary for society, also does not equate to happiness. Will also knows that there are corners of his own country in which he has never ventured, and still more hidden legacies from kings of yore to find and explore. He knows that he was never happier than he was at the bow of his runner with all of his friends — his beloved family in tow.
Sometimes, he knows, he needs vacations from being king.
He is never lonely in a way that hurts him, but secretly, Will's been a little lonely these past few days. His Partisans are rarely ever in one room together, these days. They came the closest to being reunited, that one time he was sick, but even then, Junah had still been busy with the Mage Academy, and Fidelio and Basilio had only been around for a little while. Will misses having dinner with everyone as a group in some small, podunk tavern with greasy food and cheap beer. He managed to eat lunch with Strohl and Hulkenberg recently — that pleased him — but both are occupied with things related to the state army and the royal knights today, and won't be back to the capitol until next week. Will half-suspects that Gallica arranged dinner with Louis just to cheer him up.
Well — it's working, in any case. Will always seems pleased to see Louis and be in his presence — however unofficial, the man is his betrothed after all. He positively lights up when Louis suggests running away again. ]
Really? You'd do that with me?
[ Neuras would do it too, and they both know it; the royal engineer's job is to spirit the king away to wherever it is he wants to go, after all. Will looks so happy and radiant that there might well be flowers blossoming out of his ears. ]
You don't have to be the villain all the time, you know. I'm just as happy to get into trouble. Is there a reason that you want to go up north?
[ one of the irritating things that Louis finds about being engaged and not married is that he has limited reach to Will. the king is the king, after all, and Louis is not yet meaningfully tied to his Majesty in a way that would allow him the luxury of his presence whenever he wants it (or whenever Will wants it, to an extent). it's still slightly scandalous when they're found in any proximity of intimacy, as he's certain that the rest of the senate is mounting a defense for all the reasons Louis the Villain should not marry Will the Young and Impressionable.
Louis remembers why he hates certain aspects of politics, as much as he likes folding them to his whims.
he has his own quarters and own problems to attend with still, separate from the king's or the kingdom's, and while he is ... sort of ... satisfied with it, it seems to harm Will more than him. perhaps Louis is selfish in that way. he had agreed to marriage because there's part of Will that he wanted for himself, in a way that he hadn't found himself wanting before, and Louis Guiabern does not stagger in his ambitions. ]
There are texts there that have not be rediscovered; even in my own searches, I have never been far enough to say that I have scaled the furthest reaches of where those secrets may lie. Gruidae's anatomical texts suggests that there may be companion pieces. For a while I've thought there may have been a branch of the elda tribe long dead that lived in the snows, it is as a convenient place as any to hide.
[ he settles back in his seat, looking haughty. ]
Finding such things is part of our legacy.
[ Louis is careful – when he says ours, he means theirs. not as royalty, but as two elda keen on seeking and adventuring. there is treasure in the deep snows of the mountains, Louis seems sure of it.
though there is something they probably should attend to before they begin planning their next vacation. Louis knows this, but doesn't mention it, not yet. ]
[ Wil knows from his brief escapades out into the city that some of this has begun to reach the ears of the populace. It's not known by everybody — nothing which Batlin does not personally announce to the masses is known by everybody — but the palace, the church, and the Senate all employ people, and what Will knows and loves about people is that they cannot be stopped from talking. Some have already begun to whisper rumors that the king's new "royal advisor" is poisoning his mind, having fallen on seduction and charm instead of brute force to get his way.
So, there are ways in which this trip would only convince the people more that such rumors are true. But Will also knows that he has staunch allies in the city who can work to counteract such talk. Maria, above all others, is a surprisingly good way to spread word of his good deeds; owing to his little trips, and the fact that she never quite understood the conflict between him and Louis to begin with, she has begun to tell others that Louis Guiabern does, in fact, love the king. The king said so himself, and he never lies!
(Louis will find out about this eventually. Admittedly, Will hasn't bothered to tell him.)
Will's blue eyes glimmer with excitement as Louis lays out his theory. All such talk of eldan settlements has never failed to excite him — their interests overlap here, and he especially loves getting to present Louis with things that point to their shared heritage. He has no reason to suspect anything else. What does the king need to spark a fire in his heart besides adventure, glory, and the prospect of a loved one by his side? ]
Nothing on my plate next week is an emergency.
[ I can go, in other words. More importantly: I want to go.
Tonight's dinner involves a gloriously roasted pheasant thigh with shatter-crisp golden-brown skin, cooked to perfection. Will loves it, and because he loves it, he cuts off a particularly delicious bite of meat and leans over the table to hold it out to Louis.
Some of the palace servants watching them will see this, but he doesn't care. Let them see. ]
But do you think we should take our friends? ...Or is this a trip for just the two of us?
[ okay, he's not expecting that. Will holds up prongs with a nice bit of dark meat with crispy skin on it expectantly, as if making an offering to his lover across the table. for a brief moment he seems like he may not ... exactly know what to do, but when a servant comes to add a side-dish of stewed pears to the table, he leans over deliberately and takes the offering from the king's fork right in front of him.
it does cause the person to pause, if only briefly, before he scampers off to make sure that their cups are filled. Louis looks pleased, he got a nice piece of meat and a rather fun reaction.
though he brings his attention back to Will. ]
If there's nothing urgent for you this week, perhaps we should attend to other matters beforehand.
[ now that the servants are a bit frazzled for eavesdropping. ]
We should marry before we go, or pressing matters will continue to push back the date. It may be preferable to make an engagement announcement, but it is not a requirement. I'm not unaware of the rumors circulating of me being your silver-tongued bedwarmer, and I would rather – if those insist upon saying such things – that at least one of them be true.
[ now Louis is the one looking expectant, because he wants another piece of pheasant. ]
[ Will seems to blossom at this pronouncement, his large eyes going even wider as Louis proposes marrying before they go. His breath catches very visibly in his chest; he looks for all the world like he's been promised eternity. Which, to a certain degree, he has. ]
You want to get married now?
[ Leaning forward, eyes sparkling, either with excitement or tears. He's excited in a way that Louis has likely never seen him, like a dog offered the most delicious bone imaginable. ]
It's just — I hadn't brought it up with you since we last spoke because I thought you wanted more time to... oh, Louis!
[ He's hit a breathless level of excitement. ]
Yes! A thousand times, yes. Let's skip the engagement announcement — I don't care about that. I'd marry you right now if we could.
[ Will goes on merrily in this way, that talkative cheery mood which he only seems to hit whenever he's talking to Louis. Correctly reading the man's body language, the young king sets about cutting off another piece of pheasant with which to feed his paramour. ]
Can we still have a ceremony? I do want the nation to celebrate... Oh, I'll have to write to Gideaux. I think he's the only clergyman who can marry us now. Not that you care about the Church, I know, but they are still responsible for the royal weddings...
[ He holds out the next piece of pheasant, eyes fixed on Louis's perfectly kissable lips, and lowers his voice to a whisper that surely all the eavesdroppers around them can still hear: ]
[ now that the Partisans aren't fighting them, the prospect seems simple with their blessing. the rest of the Euchronia doesn't matter, not to the two of them, anyway. they can deal with the rest of the politics laid before them – the benefits still outweigh the difficulties.
the king chatters and cuts him off little pieces of meat that he eats as he's halfway leaning across the table. he looks rather good doing it, Louis Guiabern doesn't do anything without looking incredible respectable. ]
Whatever you like considering the timing, it does not matter to me whether two or two thousand people are present – though the prospect of a royal wedding is one of entertainment. We should give enough time for the tourism to settle within the city walls.
[ but not enough time for the Prince of Oceana to protest.
(perhaps some part of him knows that the king can get lonely, too. despite Louis' complaints, it would be better if they were together. not just because certain things are ... difficult, now, but also because the flexibility for Will's health is good.) ]
Then let's announce the wedding tomorrow, and have the ceremony set for the end of the week. The roads are so much safer these days with the Tradian Brigade patrolling — that should give everyone plenty of time to settle in Grand Trad to witness the ceremony and procession.
[ Will smiles with sunshine in his heart, eyes half-lidding in a lovesick way as he continues to feed Louis by hand. The more the man indulges his whims, the more brightly he seems to burn. How could he be anything less than happy in this moment? Planning his wedding with the man he loves, knowing full well they've won over his friends at last...
As for the world beyond... it will accept their love. He has full faith that it will, in time.
(He has, in other words, absolutely no care for the fact that what he is demanding would be outlandish for any other man. If the king wants his wedding ready in a week, it will be done in a week, come hell or high water.) ]
Nothing too extravagant, I think. The parade itself should be short. But it would be wonderful if we could give out flowers to the crowd. Maybe we could have Neuras use the runner...
[ ...Certainly, the last time such a thing happened would have been his father's funeral. But Will believes wholeheartedly that flowers are better meant for happy occasions than sad ones. ]
[ without an engagement announcement, the senate will have difficulties coming up with any excuses to hold off the ceremony, itself. it'll be far better for Will, as they won't have time to find any "alternatives" to Louis – those that were "better options." Louis mulls as Will decides some details, holding up a little piece of food for him to eat as he does so.
Louis Guiabern has won this one for now – or rather, Will has, to an extent. he would be miserable the longer anyone decided to hold off on something he's been looking forward to, especially after he put this much of his heart into it. ]
As you will – for those elda that wish to participate, we should send word. It would give them means of funding, as well as fuel a few budding businesses.
[ as much as he dislikes the elda's behavior in keeping their own secrets of the world hidden, there is still a part of him that wants to protect them in some ways. perhaps he's now in a place that he can now that he's come out of his haze of destruction. ]
Perhaps it will pull their heads further out of the ground.
[ Will laughs a little at Louis's grumbling. In principle, he sort of understands; he, too, agrees with Louis that the elda should not have stayed hidden away for so long, with all the knowledge of the world's ills locked away in their village to stagnate and die with them in obscurity. At the same time, it is somewhat endearing that despite his self-professed hatred for the village, Louis still cares more than most about rescuing the elda from their plight.
I love my elda husband, Will thinks, playfully, and then he realizes, wholly and fully: Louis is going to be my elda husband.
He beams, radiant in how unbelievably joyful he is. He wasn't even this happy during his own coronation — his friends can tell Louis as much later, when they see how floaty and dreamy the prospect of his pending marriage to Louis Guiabern makes the young king.
Expectantly, he sets his fork down and leans in. ]
Is there anything else?
[ It's a little open-ended. Is there anything else you want? he could be asking, or else, Is there anything else I should know?
He just looks so, so happy. Like he'd give Louis the whole world, if he could.
(Of course, Louis offered him that once already, but Will rejected that vision. They've taken up Will's vision, now, and apparently that involves a wedding, and forkfuls of pheasant, and being shamelessly, openly in love, even if "Louis Guiabern" still appears to the populace as the clemar noble they have always known him to be.
[ there's nothing that he can do except succumb to Will's vision – Louis honors strength, and Will had won, which meant that he had to yield. even now, if they both unleashed their true strength, he would lose against the young king. it was not a matter of raw power, or skill, but one purely of will. he knew that he'd lose every time.
they came from the same place, with the same predisposition toward adventure, and somehow both ended here. when Louis was a young cadet in the royal army, there had been a strange feeling of hope knowing that there was an eldan prince that was in line for succession, even when the sanctum had been burned to the ground. it was a personal, secret hope he could not voice wearing a pair of horns on his head, but one he'd integrate into his own philosophy, even when he had been crushed time and time again.
there wasn't a time he thought he'd be sitting across from that eldan prince, somewhat content in his own strength, even if that meant he was not the strongest. it's a strange feeling, being content. ]
The church can play its role.
[ he knows that there's little to be done about that, but he can sound like he's giving the church permission, anyway. ]
It would be appropriate to add some eldan customs into the ceremony, even with my lineage unknown. Spells cast and knowledge passed down aren't the only means of keeping rituals alive.
[ that was his thought when he dropped from the Charadrius, covered in flowers. it was also in a way, a homage to his own parents, and it may be like that now, as well, even if he doesn't voice it. ]
[ Will seems to crave contact, in the moment. Which is actually a little rare, for him. He reaches out across the table, gently and tentatively weaving his fingers between Louis's larger digits. ]
What kind of eldan customs?
[ The young king squeezes Louis's hand very gently. ]
I wouldn't know. [ He almost says it like an apology. They've tread on this subject before, always lightly and never to its fullest extent, but Will always seems as though he feels somewhat guilty for being an eldan prince who knows little of the elda. A young man who spent most of his tenderest years in enchanted sleep. ] If we need to, we can ask Gruidae...
[ He peers thoughtfully at Louis's face, searching his perfect lips and the elegant slope of his nose for something like hope. ]
You'd be beautiful in an eldan robe. You'd be beautiful in anything, though.
[ it is rare, but with the mouthfuls of pheasant the king was giving him before, Louis takes it in stride. they're not in a position where he can rearrange them, put a hand on his shoulder, so he turns his palm over, letting the king touch their fingertips together. ]
I remember ribbons and knots, hands and fingers entwine. Such rituals represented the ties we have with one another. The church may have its vows, but the elda understand the significance of such actions.
[ Louis tilts his head, curious. ]
The church's words are their own, but perhaps I crave something deeper.
[ in a way, he always sort of has. he has fumbled for connection, for memory, for legacy – always searching for something that may have been right in front of him.
Will's hands is so much smaller than his own, and he has to grasp all the power within it. ]
[ Will lifts Louis's hand to his lips, lowering his lashes to kiss the man's knuckles. His hand feels heavy in Will's own on account of how much larger it is. ]
I'll ask Gruidae about the knot ceremony myself. We'll do it exactly as you remember it.
[ He lingers over the back of Louis's hand for a moment, then slowly lowers it back to the table, studying Louis's features a moment longer. Nothing that Louis has done is out of the ordinary, for him, and indeed, it's not as though Will ever expected the man to be as ecstatic as he himself is. But a rare smile, perhaps even a bit of levity... he thought he'd at least get these things.
Why does Louis not seem particularly happy at all? Does the prospect of the wedding itself not particularly matter to him? Is he lost in his own memories, perhaps, or worried about the king's naysayers? Is there something about the marriage that troubles him? Or is it simply his preference to focus on what needs to be done?
No, but he seems content enough, and he was the one who brought up the marriage to begin with. He's let Will touch him as he pleases, feed him bits of pheasant... ]
...
[ Becoming king has not made Will infallible; for a moment, he doubts himself. Should he say something? It's not as though Louis has said anything to suggest that he doesn't want to go through with the marriage. Is he unhappy?
...Actually, has Will ever seen Louis happy to begin with? Maybe he was expecting too much from the outset...
He lapses into silence, thinking. He's forgotten to touch his plate. ]
[ with his hand to his face, Louis traces the shape of his mouth, then tips his head up at the chin as Will looks down. ]
You seem displeased.
[ the medic part of Louis (newly founded) wonders if the king is still feeling ill, and may need another treatment. another part of him wonders if he's lonely, and if he should have made a move that day that he had traced his body, and damned the rumors and stayed in Will's bed. perhaps he should join him, if he's feeling disconnected, and care little of the possible consequences. he doesn't, not usually, but it seemed to keep certain political players at bay, despite how much Louis hates to indulge it. he would much rather do what he wanted.
parties and banquets have always been something expected of Louis, and this feels no different, in many ways. it's more personal this time, something that he can express himself in the tradition of his lineage that he feels closer to with Will alongside him. to him, it's important if Will is happy. ]
[ Maybe he is feeling disconnected. Displeased? He's nothing of the sort, but being read as such makes a troubled expression cross Will's face. His bottom lip quivers slightly against Louis's thumb. ]
...Forgive me. I know I shouldn't doubt you, but I still can't help but worry. I'm so, so happy at the thought of marrying you, but it feels as though you aren't very happy, yourself...
[ Perhaps he's only misread Louis? It would be embarrassing to have done so now, at this juncture, but then neither is he capable of reading Louis's mind. Will flounders, a little uncharacteristically of himself. One cannot expect a young man to not flounder at the prospect of one's own nuptials. ]
Are you sure you want to do this now? It is what I want — I want it very badly — but if it would not bring you equal joy...
[ He hesitates. ]
If this is only a matter of political concern... then I don't want you to rush into it. But I want to be with you, I... I want...
that is not what he expected, but as Will stumbles over his words, he feels a warmth that settles inside of him. he turns his hand to cup his cheek, let his fingers rest in his hair. there are not many that would concern themselves with his wants or needs, if Louis Guiabern does not want to do something, he does not do it, but Will's heart is far too kind. usually Louis marvels in its strength, but here it seems something more fragile. ]
I want to be close to you.
[ he says it as if it's a simple thing, one that he needn't question. there's a quiet, low tone to his voice. ]
Marriage will assure me that I will have that opportunity for the rest of my life. Since you are the king, there will be politics involved, and I will find every way to use them to get what I want. Even in the haze of my madness on the Charadrius, I knew I wanted to be close to you.
[ it's not often that Louis feels the need to protect Will, as Will is far too capable of protecting himself, but there is something sweet in this worry. someone could take advantage of this, pull him taut and break him to pieces, and Louis would see them dead. ]
[ Louis has Will spellbound from his very first words, but as he speaks, and lays out his thoughts, the young king finds his anxieties melting away. Again, he sinks into a sweet, even slightly dopey smile, his soft cheek pressed into Louis's palm. ]
...Okay.
[ He is fragile, on occasion, but no one said that the king was not devoid of anxieties; he knows no fear save that he fears not being loved. Happy and sated now that he has confirmation of Louis's interest, he blossoms, once again, like a daisy in the sunshine, radiating warmth. ]
As long as you feel that way... as long as you have no doubt in your heart that this is what you want... I'll be by your side now and forever.
[ Will once again neglects his dinner, but only because he would much rather turn his head and press kisses into Louis's fingers instead. Bright-white, pleased magla seems to radiate from him in waves. ]
...I'm so excited!
[ Not above the occasional boyish outburst, either, it seems. ]
[ even how that the magla has left him, even despite the cuffs around his wrists, there are parts of him that are just as unhinged as ever. while Louis' values encompassed more than just himself, there is a part of him that very selfishly wants to stay by Will, and will do anything to do so. it's an unapologetic, deliberate sort of selfishness that he embraces. the king is Euchronia's, but the king is also his.
Louis weaves his fingers through his hair, brushing over his lips when Will turns his head, the motion somewhat playful as he chirps out his excitement. ]
There is no doubt in my heart.
[ he confirms. his heart my be many things, filled with hatred and malice, but the love there is like the other two – intense and without question. sometimes he still mourns the world where the two of them ruled the hellscape he would've turned the nation into, but that time has passed. ]
Make it everything you wish it to be, celebrations should be memorable. We get far too little of it.
[ Will closes his eyes, leaning into Louis's touch. It doesn't matter to him that the servants may be watching, that others shall surely see. What he wants is right before him, and will be his forevermore. ]
Then... hmm, what else? I know it'd mean an expense, but surely we can do something to make sure that all the people are happy, too...
[ Days later, in his private chambers, Ovis Lydnad Gideaux contemplates his faith.
It is not the first time he has done so since the near-simultaneous deaths of both Sanctifex Forden and Saintess Rella. How strange it all is, he thinks, to have the core tenets of Sanctism so soundly questioned at this point in his life. He thinks of himself as only another lamb among the flock, but somehow, the Church's comings and goings have effectively fallen to him as Sanctiarch. There is even some talk of appointing him as the next Sanctifex after Forden, though he's staunchly refused to allow a vote on such an honor. Only a few years ago, he would have bitten at the chance to be so remembered by his congregation and engraved into the church's history; ambition drove him so blindly then, and he was so full of flaws. Now, he thinks he does not deserve the honor. Indeed, he isn't sure that any in the church now deserve the honor.
Still. He rises to the occasion because his people deserve it from him. The strangest thing of all is that the new king seems to support Gideaux — this despite the fact that Gideaux vividly remembers wishing to cut him dead, and even acting upon it, once or twice in the past. He had thought of the boy then as nothing more than elda spawn from the fires of hell sent to test his Sanctifex and his commitment to the people. Now, somehow, the young man seems to regularly find the nerve to write to him as a friend.
And then King Wilhelm called Gideaux into his office and asked whether or not the Sanctiarch felt comfortable overseeing his wedding ceremony.
He had thoughts on the choice of partner, surely. He had thoughts on the outrageous timing. But even then, Gideaux had thought the king's question odd. Why are you asking me? You are the king, and I am only a humble servant of God. The days when the theocracy controlled the state are behind us now. I am yours to command. He didn't say that. But he thought it.
Still, Will kept asking. "Because of the faith, you know," he'd said, casual as anything. "I just thought I'd check."
Gideaux had felt an odd lump in his throat, one he struggled to swallow down. "The faith is wrong," he'd said. "I have told our believers as much. The faith... is wrong. We were wrong to discriminate against the elda for so many years. I only fear now that it shall take too long to undo the hatred we have sowed and nurtured."
"Well, that's nice to hear," King Wilhelm had said blithely, as if he didn't really care whether or not the Sanctists reformed themselves, but was happy to hear that they would indeed make an attempt. "And what about the other part of this? Do you, ah... mind terribly, that Louis is a clemar?"
"Should it matter?"
"Well, it would make our wedding a mixed-tribe marriage, wouldn't it?"
"Your father before you..." The former warrior monk faltered, then cleared his throat. "I — forgive me. Truly, it is not my place to speak of this. But your father before you was also a clemar, so if you and Count Louis were to bear children, I would assume that they would also present as... clemar..."
A magnificently amused smirk appeared on Will's face. "Is that going to happen?"
Gideaux found himself flushing red in the face, all the way up to his pointed ears and hairless head. "I misspoke," he mumbled, too used to thinking of marriage as something between a man and a woman, "but the point remains. You yourself are... the point remains. Such things are in the past now, I should think. Even in rural Martira, the sanctoress — what was done to her was wrong."
"So you don't have any reservations."
"The faith is wrong," Gideaux repeated, with shame. "I am sorry for what we have done."
"It's not on you to apologize." The king tapped a pen against his desk thoughtfully. "Gideaux?"
"Yes?"
"What if Louis were an elda? Would that bother you?"
Gideaux paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, with a light flutter of his cloak. "Your Majesty," he murmured, "let us dispense with these questions. It matters not whether he is elda, or clemar, or ishkia, or rhoag. I shall be blessed to marry you and your beloved."
Now — as dawn breaks upon a glorious day in the capital — as he walks through the streets and sees its people in raucous celebration, women in their prettiest dresses and men in whatever passes for their best, children shrieking with laughter as they celebrate the marriage of two men they have never met and possibly never will, gossipmongers offering information on this or that for however much reeve they can get for it — as the little mixed-tribe girl from the slums and her paripus mother of no relation offer food to any and all passersby in celebration of the king she loves dearly enough to be a brother — as even the state army soldiers have been sent to distribute loaves of bread and bowls of soup and clean water to the penniless paupers in the slums, the way the saints of yore supposedly gathered their people in times of famine and conjured miracles in the name of God —
— Gideaux finds himself thinking, How wonderful it is to be alive in times like these. And then, What an honor it is to pronounce the union of a king like this.
As he waits in the cathedral for the wedding procession to emerge from the palace, round through the main thoroughfares of Grand Trad — the couple to be married waving from the king's runner, gloriously young and beautiful in the way that all young couples are — Gideaux knows that he has thinly veiled threats from the Princes of Oceana and Montario on his humble desk in the monastery. He knows that the ousted Igniter Consortium Head has called for his immediate resignation. Even so, Gideaux thinks of faith, and time, and the way that history will prove him right. He has the utmost faith that what he is doing is not wrong.
"...I pronounce you king and king consort, in the eyes of God and all Euchronia," he intones, as gracefully as he has ever done anything. "Closurei."
The king leans in and upward for a kiss from his beloved — ]
[ the kiss is firm, less like one they share in unbridled desire and more like sealing of a vow. Louis Guiabern – Louis Charadrius – does not waver in his promises. the cheers of the crowd are all but distant echoes, as was the intensity on his face when he stared at Gideaux from his spot on the altar.
some concessions had to be made, and the church was one of them. Louis was not unaware that their marriage would be seen as illegitimate without the backing of the faith, but there were still deep wounds that became grudges – there's not a part of Louis that would not see the church burn to the ground. there is something satisfying about this though, where the church itself is marrying the two of them, which would have been taboo not even a year prior.
the next kiss is a fuller, not one of a promise, but tinged with passion, uncaring to the onlookers. Gideaux does not expect a kiss past the first, and looks away at the second out of what seems like a privacy offering, where Louis sweeps the king forward by the hips and kisses the corner of his lips, then on the mouth again. the cheer from the crowd erupts in a way he hardly cares about, somewhere away from the altar, off far from the two of them.
the streets are full of color and flowers, voices calling their names, scandalous gossip and opportunists. the good spirits are contagious. it all has a sort of haphazard harmony to it, Louis thinks: the merchants trade their wares, the elda and mustari among them; drunkards roll through the streets by the end of the morning, making progress on the celebratory libations; and the Partisans all play their own parts, all having caught some degree of Will's enthusiasm. really, it's as if all of Grand Trad has caught his enthusiasm, and is quite the sight, indeed.
the party is expected to go on for days, tapering off at the end of the week. not necessarily because of any grand plans made by the king, but the populace's celebrations seem to become a beast all their own. King Wilhelm's reign has been quiet enough since his coronation that everyone seems eager to celebration, as if they could grasp just a bit of the grandeur.
Louis had organized a tournament for the day after the wedding, open to all that would show up to test their skills. it roused his followers and piqued the interest of every passer that had seen his former posters prior to his downfall (though it hardly feels like he had a downfall at all, these days). it would bring opportunity to those who have talent and have not seen it through, it also seemed to rouse interest in the royal army, as if all inspiring to clamor for some of the strength that Count Louis – now the king consort – extrudes. there would be a day or two before he made an appearance, as the preliminaries needed to wrap up before the true tournament began. of course, Louis knew that Will would want him to himself for at least a few days after this, he's come to expect it.
Junah sings in the gardens of the palace, her voice carrying, through some spell, even past its walls. there are plates and plates of food, some the king's favorite dishes, others prepared and overseen by Basilio, who put the menu together himself. there are nobles, familiar faces, friends and honorable guests all mingling around the decorated gardens. there's even a small band of fairies that came from the elda village, giggling and waving at Gallica whenever they found a window to do so.
at the dais is the table for the king and his Partisans, seated there with drinks and small dishes as the guests offered last minute gifts and blessings. Louis now knows to lean partially inward when Will seems to want to share – either a sip of some sweet wine or a small bite of something that seems to please him. ]
They're rather apt on getting your attention.
[ Louis remarks to Gallica, who's floating somewhere between his head and Will's, dressed in white lace for the occasion.
"Don't make me go over there," Gallica puffs out. "They're all really airheaded."
as if in response, Louis tilts his head in, shrinking the space between the three of them and leaning in to kiss Will, forcing Gallica to flit out behind them with a little hey! ]
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but perhaps Louis would only listen to a king – the king.
Louis lifts his head to watch him quietly, his gaze steady on Will who gently picks through the strands of his own stubborn words. he looks rather beautiful while he does it, even strung-thin and exhausted, there is a regal air to Will that Louis cannot deny, even disrobed and flecked with droplets of water. ]
... The world never made a place for me, I always made my own place in the world. If it's your world, perhaps it will be different. If it is as you say, then the time will come for it.
[ there's a small gap between them, and Louis urges Will forward until their lips touch. it's a brief kiss, one meant more to seal a pact than to indulge a desire.
for himself? no. but for Will, now that sounds like something he may be able to do. ]
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He draws his hand back, lowering it back into the water and then wrapping it around Louis's waist once more. He always feels delightfully small when he's buoyed by the water, held in the arms of the man he loves. Will has not felt well these past few days, no, but at the very least, he has the luxury of feeling safe. Despite everything, despite the enemies lurking behind closed doors and the schemes that would end with the taking of his life — Will feels safe in Louis's arms.
He's smiling sweetly as he settles his cheek upon the man's heart. From what the man has said, he doesn't quite seem ready to let Will's fingers pry his heart out of his chest — but perhaps he will be ready sometime in the future. Tomorrow is always a brighter day in Will's heart, and he will not suffer his beloved to suffer for long. ]
I believe in the future, the same way I believe in you.
[ Firm and resolute, as always. Unyielding, unbending, as always. ]
When we get out of the bath... you can dispel the last of this sickness. And then, I think, we should start planning our wedding.
[ A brief pause. Will lifts his head slightly. ]
No, wait... lunch first. And then we should start planning our wedding.
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he's looking tired, but far more lively. it's a curious thing to know that the treatment has worked, and that the knowledge he had used to turn normal people to monsters has saved the king. while he had used it for healing this time, it meant that it may go deeper than that, and that there are still secrets of the elda that he has not uncovered.
once Louis is dressed he calls for Will's lunch, something simple that's brought in by Hulkenberg. she makes a comment that Will is looking well enough that he may soon get antsy if he remains idle, and Louis can't say that he doesn't agree – Louis is beginning to get antsy, as well.
the last stretch of treatment is not nearly as hard as the night prior, nor are they in need of Eupha's help to finish it. there are a few magla pathways that need rerouting, and others that Louis needs to check remain intact. ]
Come now, stay still for just a moment longer.
[ he says when Will twitches under his touch.
well, it's far more obvious how much touch the treatment requires when the circumstances are not-so-dire, and it's obvious the way that Will shifts a bit beneath it that all thoughts aren't just on healing. such things cross Louis' mind too when he traces the pathway down his sternum to his navel, a warm palm dipping down smooth skin that seems so natural that Louis almost forgets that this isn't foreplay, it's the last in a handful of examinations.
drawing back quickly, he arranges his expression and wonders if he needs another, colder bath later in the day.
now that Will is no longer ill, Louis takes his leave of his chambers, as it no longer seems appropriate to keep Louis Guaibern within the same quarters as the king. not necessarily because the two of them care about their nuptials, but rather, there was a former king that Louis had seen an end to. the current political state needed no more rumors to mill around it until they were married. ]
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In the evening, when "Louis Guiabern" has left the king's chambers, Will regrets not keeping the man in the room with him. Somehow, he finds that his bed has become too big for his body alone.
The rumors that circulate around the palace go something like this:
The king was sick for the last few days. Most of the royal doctors can confirm this, and have been loudly griping their misfortunes, as the king's chief of staff was given direct instructions from one of the Six Partisans (or was it the king's fairy companion?) to have them all fired. Some of these former doctors claim that Louis Guiabern himself removed them; one young chef was even claiming in the palace kitchens that Louis threw them out of the king's room by his own hand, though this seems likely to be an exaggeration. Still others are still uncertain of precisely what role Louis is occupying in court. He is not the state army general or the court archmage, so under what title is the King keeping him? A royal advisor, perhaps? But is that not a dangerous position, for a man who killed the preceding king?
Beyond the fact that King Wilhelm has been ill, no one can agree on how he was treated. Only the Partisans and Louis Guiabern have been seen entering and exiting the king's chamber in recent days, ever since the doctors were dismissed. The palace maidservant (King Wilhelm commented once that they were to be considered "cleaning staff" and not "maidservants," but truthfully, even most of the maidservants still prefer to call themselves maidservants) normally assigned to clean the King's chamber has confirmed that she was reassigned to another section of the palace — to protect her own health, she thought, but as for who gave her that impression, she couldn't say.
There are still other, more outlandish rumors. A gardener working on some of the king's requested adjustments to the garden swore casually, over a few beers with friends, that he saw Louis Guiabern leaning over the king's bed through the window — to kill him, perhaps? Or something else? Kiss him? It wasn't in the gardener's power to stop him, in any case, so he did nothing. Another palace maidservant who eventually came to collect the king's used linens noted stray blond hairs atop the pillowcase and dutifully said nothing — at least until the right hands came with coin and implicit threats. Then, being a very practical woman, she talked.
All of this is to say —
— that as the Prince of Oceana reclines in his seat and sighs, knowing full well that he is in no position to negotiate with the man who once served as church crier and now serves as chairman of parliament, his thoughts are on the only way that these rumors can possibly all tie together. For all that he has been a blundering oaf in the political realm, the Prince is an old man, and not a particularly unintelligent one. There are things about being a young man that he remembers very well, and cheap infatuations are one of them.
"I'll be blunt," the one-eyed Prince begins, folding his hands atop his lap.
"I like that in a guy, sure," Batlin drawls casually with his hands in his pockets, mostly to make the Prince uneasy, and something in the irreverent sarcastic compliment does seem to make the old man somewhat unmoored.
After a light cough, the roussainte tries again. "This... talk of the young King and Louis. What have you heard of it?"
"Only what others have told me," the redheaded clemar quips. "I've also been told that you've been snooping around trying to find out what the situation is."
"I have the king's best interests at heart," the Prince of Oceana claims.
"Do you?" Batlin asks. "Because I've known you for a long time, Your Highness, as my father knew you before me. Seems to me that you only swore fealty to His Majesty because you thought Louis's supporters would come for your head at the time. Tell me, what's it matter to you? Sending eavesdroppers around the castle, bribing maids — never thought you'd stoop so low, really. What are you going to do if the king is shagging Louis?"
"He must see reason," the Prince protests, in a faux-sympathetic tone that implicitly implores Batlin to join him. "He is a boy of only eighteen. I can see why a — glamorous man such as Louis would appeal to him, if indeed he has a predilection for other men. But he knows not what danger he plays with. Louis is not a man content to be a king's toy."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Batlin asks again, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Listen, Your Highness. It's not that I don't understand. I don't trust you, and I don't trust Louis, myself. But I do trust His Majesty's judgment. I'm warning you now, you'd best not try him. He doesn't need me heading parliament to get what he wants."
"Then you will not join me in this?" the Prince demands. "You would allow a boy of eighteen to marry his father's killer, a power-hungry, raving murderer, and put him closer to the throne than us —"
Batlin tuts his tongue against his teeth. "Ah, but that's what this is about, isn't it? Us." Shrugging broad-shouldered as he grins and turns on his heel, the middle-aged clemar manages a jaunty wave as he turns and exits the otherwise-empty parliament chamber, clutching loose sheafs of paper in his hand. "So sorry, Your Highness, if I gave you the wrong impression. There never was an us." ]
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"They're not all that happy with you," Gallica says.
them meaning the senate, and not all that happy meaning nervous, Louis assumes. though Louis has always made them nervous, shows of self-made power really makes them tremble. they have not forgotten the young lord from their own rebellions, when Louis' grip on the military had brought both Oceana and Montario to their knees.
"Of course they aren't," Louis replies, leaning back in his seat. "There are two minds of this: those that think they can control a boy king, and those that would rather see this nation burn to the ground than an elda sit on the throne. One may serve the other, as they are both means to the same ends for them. Voices that have they have feared in the past are cause for threat, if the engagement is announced, the senate will do all in its powered to delay the ceremony."
"The Prince of Oceana is planning on it, I overheard him talking to Batlin. He thinks that the king is someone who needs to be reasoned with because he's so young," Galica says with obvious distaste in her voice. there was a time when she, too, didn't understand what had gotten into Will, but the more time she spent with Louis, the more she gets it. it's why she's there now, her fairy bottom perched on a pile of books, while Will is meeting with the law makers.
"We must not allow them the chance." Louis taps a quill against a parchment in thought, the tip dry enough to leave a small indent of a dot on the page.
"He's been looking forward to this ever since I heard about it. He deserves to be happy, and not have to wait because of some stupid politics. They'll just pull him into meeting after meeting and make him sign a ton of paperwork. How do we head that off?"
Louis had taken most of Will's excited looks in stride, but now that Gallica lays it so openly, it's hard to ignore. there is complicated feelings regarding himself as the cause of that joy, but he agrees with Gallica: Will should not have to wait for what he wants because of stupid politics.
"We skip the engagement announcement and set a date for the ceremony," Louis says, leaning his temple against his knuckles. "We'll ruffle a few feathers, but save ourselves the headache of their squalling. The public will hardly notice, their intent will be upon the marriage itself and could care little of the details."
"He'd go for that, too."
"It is rather enjoyable when he sets himself aflame," Louis starts. he realizes his slip, and then lifts his gaze to Gallica. "Tell Batlin to have a little fun with them in the interim, and I'll press upon the king my own eagerness for our nuptials."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Eager?" Gallica asks, taking to the air and flitting up next to Louis' face.
"My sentiment favors action," he replies flawlessly. "While I am patient, there are certain things that are best if they come to past sooner rather than later, and it will be in the king's favor that they do."
"Sure sure."
"Send Fidelio in to see me."
Gallica makes an affirmative noise and heads toward the door before she can see the face that he makes.
there's also Louis' own followers to attend to in this matter. while neither Fidelio nor Basilio work for him particularly anymore, they do see reason when it comes to caring for the king. perhaps Fidelio has been a witness to Louis' fondness for Will for so long, that this hardly surprises him – neither of the two believe that Louis, in his current iteration, would harm the king. it's one of the only reasons they currently still listen to him.
when Louis next sees Will, it's for supper after a long day of court and paperwork. ever since he'd been ill, their meetings had been sparser, further in between. it's the nature of the beast, Louis supposes, as Will is the king, and his attention is something demanded by his patrons. ]
If we take to the gauntlet runner again, I'm certain that I'll be blamed for such recklessness. We should take advantage of that and take a trip north.
[ he says absently, knowingly, perhaps as a joke, but perhaps also not. ]
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But being good at something, and that thing being necessary for society, also does not equate to happiness. Will also knows that there are corners of his own country in which he has never ventured, and still more hidden legacies from kings of yore to find and explore. He knows that he was never happier than he was at the bow of his runner with all of his friends — his beloved family in tow.
Sometimes, he knows, he needs vacations from being king.
He is never lonely in a way that hurts him, but secretly, Will's been a little lonely these past few days. His Partisans are rarely ever in one room together, these days. They came the closest to being reunited, that one time he was sick, but even then, Junah had still been busy with the Mage Academy, and Fidelio and Basilio had only been around for a little while. Will misses having dinner with everyone as a group in some small, podunk tavern with greasy food and cheap beer. He managed to eat lunch with Strohl and Hulkenberg recently — that pleased him — but both are occupied with things related to the state army and the royal knights today, and won't be back to the capitol until next week. Will half-suspects that Gallica arranged dinner with Louis just to cheer him up.
Well — it's working, in any case. Will always seems pleased to see Louis and be in his presence — however unofficial, the man is his betrothed after all. He positively lights up when Louis suggests running away again. ]
Really? You'd do that with me?
[ Neuras would do it too, and they both know it; the royal engineer's job is to spirit the king away to wherever it is he wants to go, after all. Will looks so happy and radiant that there might well be flowers blossoming out of his ears. ]
You don't have to be the villain all the time, you know. I'm just as happy to get into trouble. Is there a reason that you want to go up north?
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Louis remembers why he hates certain aspects of politics, as much as he likes folding them to his whims.
he has his own quarters and own problems to attend with still, separate from the king's or the kingdom's, and while he is ... sort of ... satisfied with it, it seems to harm Will more than him. perhaps Louis is selfish in that way. he had agreed to marriage because there's part of Will that he wanted for himself, in a way that he hadn't found himself wanting before, and Louis Guiabern does not stagger in his ambitions. ]
There are texts there that have not be rediscovered; even in my own searches, I have never been far enough to say that I have scaled the furthest reaches of where those secrets may lie. Gruidae's anatomical texts suggests that there may be companion pieces. For a while I've thought there may have been a branch of the elda tribe long dead that lived in the snows, it is as a convenient place as any to hide.
[ he settles back in his seat, looking haughty. ]
Finding such things is part of our legacy.
[ Louis is careful – when he says ours, he means theirs. not as royalty, but as two elda keen on seeking and adventuring. there is treasure in the deep snows of the mountains, Louis seems sure of it.
though there is something they probably should attend to before they begin planning their next vacation. Louis knows this, but doesn't mention it, not yet. ]
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So, there are ways in which this trip would only convince the people more that such rumors are true. But Will also knows that he has staunch allies in the city who can work to counteract such talk. Maria, above all others, is a surprisingly good way to spread word of his good deeds; owing to his little trips, and the fact that she never quite understood the conflict between him and Louis to begin with, she has begun to tell others that Louis Guiabern does, in fact, love the king. The king said so himself, and he never lies!
(Louis will find out about this eventually. Admittedly, Will hasn't bothered to tell him.)
Will's blue eyes glimmer with excitement as Louis lays out his theory. All such talk of eldan settlements has never failed to excite him — their interests overlap here, and he especially loves getting to present Louis with things that point to their shared heritage. He has no reason to suspect anything else. What does the king need to spark a fire in his heart besides adventure, glory, and the prospect of a loved one by his side? ]
Nothing on my plate next week is an emergency.
[ I can go, in other words. More importantly: I want to go.
Tonight's dinner involves a gloriously roasted pheasant thigh with shatter-crisp golden-brown skin, cooked to perfection. Will loves it, and because he loves it, he cuts off a particularly delicious bite of meat and leans over the table to hold it out to Louis.
Some of the palace servants watching them will see this, but he doesn't care. Let them see. ]
But do you think we should take our friends? ...Or is this a trip for just the two of us?
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it does cause the person to pause, if only briefly, before he scampers off to make sure that their cups are filled. Louis looks pleased, he got a nice piece of meat and a rather fun reaction.
though he brings his attention back to Will. ]
If there's nothing urgent for you this week, perhaps we should attend to other matters beforehand.
[ now that the servants are a bit frazzled for eavesdropping. ]
We should marry before we go, or pressing matters will continue to push back the date. It may be preferable to make an engagement announcement, but it is not a requirement. I'm not unaware of the rumors circulating of me being your silver-tongued bedwarmer, and I would rather – if those insist upon saying such things – that at least one of them be true.
[ now Louis is the one looking expectant, because he wants another piece of pheasant. ]
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You want to get married now?
[ Leaning forward, eyes sparkling, either with excitement or tears. He's excited in a way that Louis has likely never seen him, like a dog offered the most delicious bone imaginable. ]
It's just — I hadn't brought it up with you since we last spoke because I thought you wanted more time to... oh, Louis!
[ He's hit a breathless level of excitement. ]
Yes! A thousand times, yes. Let's skip the engagement announcement — I don't care about that. I'd marry you right now if we could.
[ Will goes on merrily in this way, that talkative cheery mood which he only seems to hit whenever he's talking to Louis. Correctly reading the man's body language, the young king sets about cutting off another piece of pheasant with which to feed his paramour. ]
Can we still have a ceremony? I do want the nation to celebrate... Oh, I'll have to write to Gideaux. I think he's the only clergyman who can marry us now. Not that you care about the Church, I know, but they are still responsible for the royal weddings...
[ He holds out the next piece of pheasant, eyes fixed on Louis's perfectly kissable lips, and lowers his voice to a whisper that surely all the eavesdroppers around them can still hear: ]
I've missed having you in my bed, too.
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the king chatters and cuts him off little pieces of meat that he eats as he's halfway leaning across the table. he looks rather good doing it, Louis Guiabern doesn't do anything without looking incredible respectable. ]
Whatever you like considering the timing, it does not matter to me whether two or two thousand people are present – though the prospect of a royal wedding is one of entertainment. We should give enough time for the tourism to settle within the city walls.
[ but not enough time for the Prince of Oceana to protest.
(perhaps some part of him knows that the king can get lonely, too. despite Louis' complaints, it would be better if they were together. not just because certain things are ... difficult, now, but also because the flexibility for Will's health is good.) ]
The city should prosper from the festivities.
[ he could get used to being fed. ]
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[ Will smiles with sunshine in his heart, eyes half-lidding in a lovesick way as he continues to feed Louis by hand. The more the man indulges his whims, the more brightly he seems to burn. How could he be anything less than happy in this moment? Planning his wedding with the man he loves, knowing full well they've won over his friends at last...
As for the world beyond... it will accept their love. He has full faith that it will, in time.
(He has, in other words, absolutely no care for the fact that what he is demanding would be outlandish for any other man. If the king wants his wedding ready in a week, it will be done in a week, come hell or high water.) ]
Nothing too extravagant, I think. The parade itself should be short. But it would be wonderful if we could give out flowers to the crowd. Maybe we could have Neuras use the runner...
[ ...Certainly, the last time such a thing happened would have been his father's funeral. But Will believes wholeheartedly that flowers are better meant for happy occasions than sad ones. ]
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Louis Guiabern has won this one for now – or rather, Will has, to an extent. he would be miserable the longer anyone decided to hold off on something he's been looking forward to, especially after he put this much of his heart into it. ]
As you will – for those elda that wish to participate, we should send word. It would give them means of funding, as well as fuel a few budding businesses.
[ as much as he dislikes the elda's behavior in keeping their own secrets of the world hidden, there is still a part of him that wants to protect them in some ways. perhaps he's now in a place that he can now that he's come out of his haze of destruction. ]
Perhaps it will pull their heads further out of the ground.
[ well, he had to complain a little. ]
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I love my elda husband, Will thinks, playfully, and then he realizes, wholly and fully: Louis is going to be my elda husband.
He beams, radiant in how unbelievably joyful he is. He wasn't even this happy during his own coronation — his friends can tell Louis as much later, when they see how floaty and dreamy the prospect of his pending marriage to Louis Guiabern makes the young king.
Expectantly, he sets his fork down and leans in. ]
Is there anything else?
[ It's a little open-ended. Is there anything else you want? he could be asking, or else, Is there anything else I should know?
He just looks so, so happy. Like he'd give Louis the whole world, if he could.
(Of course, Louis offered him that once already, but Will rejected that vision. They've taken up Will's vision, now, and apparently that involves a wedding, and forkfuls of pheasant, and being shamelessly, openly in love, even if "Louis Guiabern" still appears to the populace as the clemar noble they have always known him to be.
In fairness, Will secretly likes the horns.) ]
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they came from the same place, with the same predisposition toward adventure, and somehow both ended here. when Louis was a young cadet in the royal army, there had been a strange feeling of hope knowing that there was an eldan prince that was in line for succession, even when the sanctum had been burned to the ground. it was a personal, secret hope he could not voice wearing a pair of horns on his head, but one he'd integrate into his own philosophy, even when he had been crushed time and time again.
there wasn't a time he thought he'd be sitting across from that eldan prince, somewhat content in his own strength, even if that meant he was not the strongest. it's a strange feeling, being content. ]
The church can play its role.
[ he knows that there's little to be done about that, but he can sound like he's giving the church permission, anyway. ]
It would be appropriate to add some eldan customs into the ceremony, even with my lineage unknown. Spells cast and knowledge passed down aren't the only means of keeping rituals alive.
[ that was his thought when he dropped from the Charadrius, covered in flowers. it was also in a way, a homage to his own parents, and it may be like that now, as well, even if he doesn't voice it. ]
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What kind of eldan customs?
[ The young king squeezes Louis's hand very gently. ]
I wouldn't know. [ He almost says it like an apology. They've tread on this subject before, always lightly and never to its fullest extent, but Will always seems as though he feels somewhat guilty for being an eldan prince who knows little of the elda. A young man who spent most of his tenderest years in enchanted sleep. ] If we need to, we can ask Gruidae...
[ He peers thoughtfully at Louis's face, searching his perfect lips and the elegant slope of his nose for something like hope. ]
You'd be beautiful in an eldan robe. You'd be beautiful in anything, though.
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I remember ribbons and knots, hands and fingers entwine. Such rituals represented the ties we have with one another. The church may have its vows, but the elda understand the significance of such actions.
[ Louis tilts his head, curious. ]
The church's words are their own, but perhaps I crave something deeper.
[ in a way, he always sort of has. he has fumbled for connection, for memory, for legacy – always searching for something that may have been right in front of him.
Will's hands is so much smaller than his own, and he has to grasp all the power within it. ]
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I'll ask Gruidae about the knot ceremony myself. We'll do it exactly as you remember it.
[ He lingers over the back of Louis's hand for a moment, then slowly lowers it back to the table, studying Louis's features a moment longer. Nothing that Louis has done is out of the ordinary, for him, and indeed, it's not as though Will ever expected the man to be as ecstatic as he himself is. But a rare smile, perhaps even a bit of levity... he thought he'd at least get these things.
Why does Louis not seem particularly happy at all? Does the prospect of the wedding itself not particularly matter to him? Is he lost in his own memories, perhaps, or worried about the king's naysayers? Is there something about the marriage that troubles him? Or is it simply his preference to focus on what needs to be done?
No, but he seems content enough, and he was the one who brought up the marriage to begin with. He's let Will touch him as he pleases, feed him bits of pheasant... ]
...
[ Becoming king has not made Will infallible; for a moment, he doubts himself. Should he say something? It's not as though Louis has said anything to suggest that he doesn't want to go through with the marriage. Is he unhappy?
...Actually, has Will ever seen Louis happy to begin with? Maybe he was expecting too much from the outset...
He lapses into silence, thinking. He's forgotten to touch his plate. ]
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You seem displeased.
[ the medic part of Louis (newly founded) wonders if the king is still feeling ill, and may need another treatment. another part of him wonders if he's lonely, and if he should have made a move that day that he had traced his body, and damned the rumors and stayed in Will's bed. perhaps he should join him, if he's feeling disconnected, and care little of the possible consequences. he doesn't, not usually, but it seemed to keep certain political players at bay, despite how much Louis hates to indulge it. he would much rather do what he wanted.
parties and banquets have always been something expected of Louis, and this feels no different, in many ways. it's more personal this time, something that he can express himself in the tradition of his lineage that he feels closer to with Will alongside him. to him, it's important if Will is happy. ]
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[ Maybe he is feeling disconnected. Displeased? He's nothing of the sort, but being read as such makes a troubled expression cross Will's face. His bottom lip quivers slightly against Louis's thumb. ]
...Forgive me. I know I shouldn't doubt you, but I still can't help but worry. I'm so, so happy at the thought of marrying you, but it feels as though you aren't very happy, yourself...
[ Perhaps he's only misread Louis? It would be embarrassing to have done so now, at this juncture, but then neither is he capable of reading Louis's mind. Will flounders, a little uncharacteristically of himself. One cannot expect a young man to not flounder at the prospect of one's own nuptials. ]
Are you sure you want to do this now? It is what I want — I want it very badly — but if it would not bring you equal joy...
[ He hesitates. ]
If this is only a matter of political concern... then I don't want you to rush into it. But I want to be with you, I... I want...
[ Lowered lashes, a moment's breath. A sigh. ]
What you want matters, too.
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that is not what he expected, but as Will stumbles over his words, he feels a warmth that settles inside of him. he turns his hand to cup his cheek, let his fingers rest in his hair. there are not many that would concern themselves with his wants or needs, if Louis Guiabern does not want to do something, he does not do it, but Will's heart is far too kind. usually Louis marvels in its strength, but here it seems something more fragile. ]
I want to be close to you.
[ he says it as if it's a simple thing, one that he needn't question. there's a quiet, low tone to his voice. ]
Marriage will assure me that I will have that opportunity for the rest of my life. Since you are the king, there will be politics involved, and I will find every way to use them to get what I want. Even in the haze of my madness on the Charadrius, I knew I wanted to be close to you.
[ it's not often that Louis feels the need to protect Will, as Will is far too capable of protecting himself, but there is something sweet in this worry. someone could take advantage of this, pull him taut and break him to pieces, and Louis would see them dead. ]
There will never be a time that will change.
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...Okay.
[ He is fragile, on occasion, but no one said that the king was not devoid of anxieties; he knows no fear save that he fears not being loved. Happy and sated now that he has confirmation of Louis's interest, he blossoms, once again, like a daisy in the sunshine, radiating warmth. ]
As long as you feel that way... as long as you have no doubt in your heart that this is what you want... I'll be by your side now and forever.
[ Will once again neglects his dinner, but only because he would much rather turn his head and press kisses into Louis's fingers instead. Bright-white, pleased magla seems to radiate from him in waves. ]
...I'm so excited!
[ Not above the occasional boyish outburst, either, it seems. ]
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Louis weaves his fingers through his hair, brushing over his lips when Will turns his head, the motion somewhat playful as he chirps out his excitement. ]
There is no doubt in my heart.
[ he confirms. his heart my be many things, filled with hatred and malice, but the love there is like the other two – intense and without question. sometimes he still mourns the world where the two of them ruled the hellscape he would've turned the nation into, but that time has passed. ]
Make it everything you wish it to be, celebrations should be memorable. We get far too little of it.
[ that is something he certainly believes in. ]
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Then... hmm, what else? I know it'd mean an expense, but surely we can do something to make sure that all the people are happy, too...
[ Days later, in his private chambers, Ovis Lydnad Gideaux contemplates his faith.
It is not the first time he has done so since the near-simultaneous deaths of both Sanctifex Forden and Saintess Rella. How strange it all is, he thinks, to have the core tenets of Sanctism so soundly questioned at this point in his life. He thinks of himself as only another lamb among the flock, but somehow, the Church's comings and goings have effectively fallen to him as Sanctiarch. There is even some talk of appointing him as the next Sanctifex after Forden, though he's staunchly refused to allow a vote on such an honor. Only a few years ago, he would have bitten at the chance to be so remembered by his congregation and engraved into the church's history; ambition drove him so blindly then, and he was so full of flaws. Now, he thinks he does not deserve the honor. Indeed, he isn't sure that any in the church now deserve the honor.
Still. He rises to the occasion because his people deserve it from him. The strangest thing of all is that the new king seems to support Gideaux — this despite the fact that Gideaux vividly remembers wishing to cut him dead, and even acting upon it, once or twice in the past. He had thought of the boy then as nothing more than elda spawn from the fires of hell sent to test his Sanctifex and his commitment to the people. Now, somehow, the young man seems to regularly find the nerve to write to him as a friend.
And then King Wilhelm called Gideaux into his office and asked whether or not the Sanctiarch felt comfortable overseeing his wedding ceremony.
He had thoughts on the choice of partner, surely. He had thoughts on the outrageous timing. But even then, Gideaux had thought the king's question odd. Why are you asking me? You are the king, and I am only a humble servant of God. The days when the theocracy controlled the state are behind us now. I am yours to command. He didn't say that. But he thought it.
Still, Will kept asking. "Because of the faith, you know," he'd said, casual as anything. "I just thought I'd check."
Gideaux had felt an odd lump in his throat, one he struggled to swallow down. "The faith is wrong," he'd said. "I have told our believers as much. The faith... is wrong. We were wrong to discriminate against the elda for so many years. I only fear now that it shall take too long to undo the hatred we have sowed and nurtured."
"Well, that's nice to hear," King Wilhelm had said blithely, as if he didn't really care whether or not the Sanctists reformed themselves, but was happy to hear that they would indeed make an attempt. "And what about the other part of this? Do you, ah... mind terribly, that Louis is a clemar?"
"Should it matter?"
"Well, it would make our wedding a mixed-tribe marriage, wouldn't it?"
"Your father before you..." The former warrior monk faltered, then cleared his throat. "I — forgive me. Truly, it is not my place to speak of this. But your father before you was also a clemar, so if you and Count Louis were to bear children, I would assume that they would also present as... clemar..."
A magnificently amused smirk appeared on Will's face. "Is that going to happen?"
Gideaux found himself flushing red in the face, all the way up to his pointed ears and hairless head. "I misspoke," he mumbled, too used to thinking of marriage as something between a man and a woman, "but the point remains. You yourself are... the point remains. Such things are in the past now, I should think. Even in rural Martira, the sanctoress — what was done to her was wrong."
"So you don't have any reservations."
"The faith is wrong," Gideaux repeated, with shame. "I am sorry for what we have done."
"It's not on you to apologize." The king tapped a pen against his desk thoughtfully. "Gideaux?"
"Yes?"
"What if Louis were an elda? Would that bother you?"
Gideaux paused for a moment, then sighed deeply, with a light flutter of his cloak. "Your Majesty," he murmured, "let us dispense with these questions. It matters not whether he is elda, or clemar, or ishkia, or rhoag. I shall be blessed to marry you and your beloved."
Now — as dawn breaks upon a glorious day in the capital — as he walks through the streets and sees its people in raucous celebration, women in their prettiest dresses and men in whatever passes for their best, children shrieking with laughter as they celebrate the marriage of two men they have never met and possibly never will, gossipmongers offering information on this or that for however much reeve they can get for it — as the little mixed-tribe girl from the slums and her paripus mother of no relation offer food to any and all passersby in celebration of the king she loves dearly enough to be a brother — as even the state army soldiers have been sent to distribute loaves of bread and bowls of soup and clean water to the penniless paupers in the slums, the way the saints of yore supposedly gathered their people in times of famine and conjured miracles in the name of God —
— Gideaux finds himself thinking, How wonderful it is to be alive in times like these. And then, What an honor it is to pronounce the union of a king like this.
As he waits in the cathedral for the wedding procession to emerge from the palace, round through the main thoroughfares of Grand Trad — the couple to be married waving from the king's runner, gloriously young and beautiful in the way that all young couples are — Gideaux knows that he has thinly veiled threats from the Princes of Oceana and Montario on his humble desk in the monastery. He knows that the ousted Igniter Consortium Head has called for his immediate resignation. Even so, Gideaux thinks of faith, and time, and the way that history will prove him right. He has the utmost faith that what he is doing is not wrong.
"...I pronounce you king and king consort, in the eyes of God and all Euchronia," he intones, as gracefully as he has ever done anything. "Closurei."
The king leans in and upward for a kiss from his beloved — ]
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some concessions had to be made, and the church was one of them. Louis was not unaware that their marriage would be seen as illegitimate without the backing of the faith, but there were still deep wounds that became grudges – there's not a part of Louis that would not see the church burn to the ground. there is something satisfying about this though, where the church itself is marrying the two of them, which would have been taboo not even a year prior.
the next kiss is a fuller, not one of a promise, but tinged with passion, uncaring to the onlookers. Gideaux does not expect a kiss past the first, and looks away at the second out of what seems like a privacy offering, where Louis sweeps the king forward by the hips and kisses the corner of his lips, then on the mouth again. the cheer from the crowd erupts in a way he hardly cares about, somewhere away from the altar, off far from the two of them.
the streets are full of color and flowers, voices calling their names, scandalous gossip and opportunists. the good spirits are contagious. it all has a sort of haphazard harmony to it, Louis thinks: the merchants trade their wares, the elda and mustari among them; drunkards roll through the streets by the end of the morning, making progress on the celebratory libations; and the Partisans all play their own parts, all having caught some degree of Will's enthusiasm. really, it's as if all of Grand Trad has caught his enthusiasm, and is quite the sight, indeed.
the party is expected to go on for days, tapering off at the end of the week. not necessarily because of any grand plans made by the king, but the populace's celebrations seem to become a beast all their own. King Wilhelm's reign has been quiet enough since his coronation that everyone seems eager to celebration, as if they could grasp just a bit of the grandeur.
Louis had organized a tournament for the day after the wedding, open to all that would show up to test their skills. it roused his followers and piqued the interest of every passer that had seen his former posters prior to his downfall (though it hardly feels like he had a downfall at all, these days). it would bring opportunity to those who have talent and have not seen it through, it also seemed to rouse interest in the royal army, as if all inspiring to clamor for some of the strength that Count Louis – now the king consort – extrudes. there would be a day or two before he made an appearance, as the preliminaries needed to wrap up before the true tournament began. of course, Louis knew that Will would want him to himself for at least a few days after this, he's come to expect it.
Junah sings in the gardens of the palace, her voice carrying, through some spell, even past its walls. there are plates and plates of food, some the king's favorite dishes, others prepared and overseen by Basilio, who put the menu together himself. there are nobles, familiar faces, friends and honorable guests all mingling around the decorated gardens. there's even a small band of fairies that came from the elda village, giggling and waving at Gallica whenever they found a window to do so.
at the dais is the table for the king and his Partisans, seated there with drinks and small dishes as the guests offered last minute gifts and blessings. Louis now knows to lean partially inward when Will seems to want to share – either a sip of some sweet wine or a small bite of something that seems to please him. ]
They're rather apt on getting your attention.
[ Louis remarks to Gallica, who's floating somewhere between his head and Will's, dressed in white lace for the occasion.
"Don't make me go over there," Gallica puffs out. "They're all really airheaded."
as if in response, Louis tilts his head in, shrinking the space between the three of them and leaning in to kiss Will, forcing Gallica to flit out behind them with a little hey! ]
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