[ 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! ]
[ The entire wedding has felt like a dream, to Will.
One major victory, he thinks, is how wonderfully public they've been. They've kissed each other before the eyes of all onlookers, more than once, and still even now, again and again, over the celebratory banquet. Louis keeps leaning in for kisses, for attention, for little bits and pieces of things Will has enjoyed eating: bidou, partridge, a bit of a peach crumble, even some long noodles from Heismay's eugief village. They hadn't really talked about boundaries or what they'd be demonstrating to the public, prior to the wedding, so Will feels aglow. Part of him had wondered if Louis would not want to show such vulnerability to the nation. He needn't have worried; Louis Guiabern fears neither judgment from mortal man nor the divine.
Even the naysayers who put real money on the idea that the wedding was a political stunt have been silenced now. They're the very picture of young love, young and beautiful and besotted with each other, and their good cheer has slowly started to infect the rest of Grand Trad. There's Loveless, loudly and drunkenly erupting in raucous good cheer; there's Catherina, dragging him down from a table and boxing him around the ears, yelling, "You're makin' us paripus look bad, you idiot!" Basilio is laughing; Fidelio looks as though he wants nothing to do with his fellow animal-eared tribesmen. Lady Gruidae is somewhere off to the side, floating on her carpet and watching the paripus brawl with an interest that ill befits her outward "vaunted elder" person.
Elsewhere, Edeni has engaged Bardon in conversation; Bardon seems somewhat flustered to be engaged on equal terms with someone he perceives as a graceful leader of his people. Across the way, Alonzo is toying with an elegant pipe between his fingers; he looks vaguely as though he wants to fill it with something and take a drag off of it, but a stern glance from Brigitta (who is entertaining children) stays his hand.
Will turns his gaze back towards Louis and feeds him another bite of apple pie. ]
Sorry, Gallica. You're going to have to get used to it.
[ He kisses a crumb off Louis's bottom lip, ignoring the way his fairy friend groans and slaps her forehead.
"You did something," she says accusingly towards Louis, though there's no real heat to it. "You made him stupid. Although, now that I think about it, I guess he was always kind of stupid..."
Will chuckles softly, not off-put in the least — it's true, he would have been very stupid without Gallica's guidence — but serenely continues: ]
Still, the tournament idea was kind of a surprise. Part of me almost wants to enter it myself... but I guess that wouldn't be very fair.
[ while Louis is never particularly obedient, he seems somewhat content to let Will feed him. it is titillating to him in the way that the king, who has defeated him utterly and completely, is now feeding him. there's a tinge of power to it that thrills him. Louis lounges with his temple to his knuckles, shifting slightly and opening his mouth just enough for Will to feed him.
to Louis, a celebration is a celebration, and this is, to an extent, his as much as it is Will's to drink in and enjoy. there's no need to hide his affection, especially when in contrast to skeptical onlookers and furious naysayers. it's enough for him to know that each time their lips touch that someone is getting mad about it.
he's partially paying attention to the wedding antics playing out in the garden, though his attention is on Will. all and all, Louis seems to enjoy his pie. ]
The king winning the king consort's tournament would stoke the conspiratorial flames of those determined to incite one.
[ though the thought itself amuses him to a degree. ]
During our rivalry, I remember you were among the top ranks in the coliseum. Do you crave a new challenge?
[ (he was keeping tabs on Will at the time, after all.)
it's an honest question – he had heard a lot about Will's climb to popularity, and it wasn't always speeches and kindness. there was a grittiness to it too: dungeons filled with monsters, dragons radiating fear, and humans that ravaged the countryside. Will is no stranger to battle. it's also a funny question, given that Louis is rather well-dressed in wedding robes, with his hair braided and pulled back as he asks it. ]
Well, maybe... but I can't enter the tournament! That wouldn't be fair.
[ It's still mysterious to him, even now, that they play off each other so well now that the kingdom is at peace. They converse so easily, so playfully, and even after all these weeks, Will's fascination with Louis hasn't ebbed in the least. Between each passing visitor and guest come to offer their congratulations and best wishes for the marriage, Will steals glances at his husband as if the sun rises and sets at his word.
Though his adoration doesn't seem to have diminished his own cocky confidence any, as he tilts his head and smirks and says — ]
Because I'd definitely win.
[ Well... he's not wrong.
Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he adds in a whisper: ]
I'm not sure there's a challenge more exciting than dueling you, anyway.
[ well, that is curious. though Will has won – he has become king, tamed dragons, crawled through ancient dungeons and defeated Louis at his worst. yet here he is, mulling over not being able to enter the king consort's tournament, because there's still something within him that craves strength.
Louis sits back, pleased. Will is being cocky, but he's certainly not wrong. the king would win – perhaps there's aspects of Louis' dream yet within the world, though it has mostly died. ]
Is that so?
[ Louis tilts his head, leaning in. his voice is as smooth as silk. as he speaks in gets closer, bridging the space between them. ]
Perhaps I could fulfill that need for you.
[ before Will can respond, Louis sits up and reaches for a piece of bread that's not far from him. there's an aristocrat approaching the dais, some daughter of a lord of a lord sort of thing. she leaves some candied fruit in front of them (which is whisked off by an attendant), and Louis gives his majesty a pointed look before he eats. ]
[ Will craves strength, and excitement, and adventure; he needs romance and fantasy and something to strive for, even as he strives to create a world where no one needs to strive so desperately at all. He craves Louis, too, and that is what has led him here: to this marriage, and to a world where his ideals and Louis's ideals can coexist.
No one ever said that they each needed to destroy the other. That seems a folly imposed onto them by the sins of other men.
Will's eyes lid seductively; he is comfortable with this new distance. He knows that everyone is watching, that the country will hear of this even if they do not see it personally, but he doesn't care. Let them watch. Let them listen. ]
You're going to fulfill a lot of needs for me...
[ Teasing, and quite happily flirting, Will opens his mouth for Louis to put — well, anything in it, really; those candied fruits were tempting, but since they've been whisked away, the king will most certainly accept a bit of his consort's piece of bread instead.
Gallica groans.
"Ugh, you two are just going to flirt all night, aren't you?" the girl grumbles, planting a fairy palm against her fairy forehead. Then she slides off the upside-down teacup she's been sitting on, smoothly sliding into her usual long-legged flying posture. "Forget it. I'm going to go see what Junah and Eupha are up to. Call me back before the knot ceremony!" ]
[ to say that love is a savior never rung true Louis, possibly because after his parents died his life had been so devoid of it that it was hard to imagine that anything could be built on the obscure. if he was asked about a future where his ambitions were thwarted, he would have never conceived that it would end in marriage, only death. he won or he died; that was the promise.
and yet, here he was, leaning in and finding affectionate words for a king who defiantly, desperately saved him. it was not just Will's world that needed building, but pure rejection of the idea of duality. Louis had offered it in his own way, but a world monsters and bloody battle was not made of romance and fantasy.
his new husband is easily malleable, and from his bedroom eyes it's already easy to tell what's on his mind. ]
To think, we've been quite patient.
[ Louis takes a moment to admire him, his eyes closed and his lips parted, but he doesn't feed him just yet. he traces his lip from the center to the corner, as he seems to like to do, enjoying the soft shape before putting a jam-covered piece of sweet bread in his mouth. Gallica's already off before either of them can say anything, both of them a bit too entranced with one another to see her off.
not only did he not believe his the end of his prior ambitions would end in marriage, even less so did Louis Guiabern believe he would be feeding a lover on a flower-covered dais.
he hears someone whistle loudly at them, looking up directly at the noise that seems to be a very intoxicated Loveless. (somewhere in his brain he wonders where in any world that this uncultured half-wit became a candidate.) while he doesn't notice Louis' piercing gaze on him, Catherina picks up on it like a knife is held to Loveless' throat. she drags him down again, elbow around his neck and a curse on her lips.
"Don't pay attention to him, he's just an idiot!"
"Hey, shouldn't you be careful? No fights at the king's wedding!" someone hisses just above a whisper.
Basilio leans forward in his seat, clearly amused.
then Louis gets up and holds up his cup, everyone stills, as if holding their breath. ]
Come now, a wedding without a few good scuffles would turn out rather dull. A round for the winner.
[ it goes over well enough, with Loveless tumbling to the floor with a laugh that will surely be a few nasty bruises come tomorrow morning. it seems to put some ease to the room that felt that their way of celebrating may not be appropriate – well, times are different, now. ]
[ Louis ends the tumult in the way that only Louis Guiabern can: with an inimitable, sparkling charisma, a dignity that could never be stripped from him no matter the circumstances. He proposes a toast, claims absolutely no offense at Loveless's inebriated attempts to ruin his own wedding. He is, in other words, eminently likable, and no one at the party could possibly love him more than his own husband, who is giggling in the seat by his side past a mouthful of jam and bread.
Will can see on the faces of the guests who only know Louis by name and reputation, and never by his person, that all are somewhat impressed and astounded that the man is infinitely more relaxed than they expected him to be.
...Soon, everything settles again. Catherina is soon triumphantly enjoying the alcohol she earned as being the "winner" of the wedding brawls. Strohl seems to have found himself holding court amidst a gaggle of admirers; he looks flustered enough that Hulkenberg soon stages an operation to extract him from the crowd of noble daughters he seems to have somehow attracted. Even Eupha is tittering on a bench somewhere, swaying in the way she only gets when she's more than just slightly inebriated; fortunately, Edeni is soon by her side offering her water.
So it goes.
When the banquet has slowly come to a close and the woman who runs the castle kitchens darts out briefly to curtsy at her king before rushing back in to the fray, Will knows it is almost time to bring the festivities to an end. He turns and smiles at his beloved, his new life partner, rising to his feet and holding one hand out towards his impossibly perfect consort. ]
[ the day is long and the festivities are vast. it's been quite a while since there's been a royal wedding, and this is the first one many have seen in their lifetimes. it's even rarer due to the elda that now occupies the throne (or eldas, to those who know).
while the guests finish their food and drink, both Will and Louis are whisked away to freshen up. there are a few outer layers that need to be changed, both of them need their hair attended to, and a breather to use the facilities before the next ceremony. Louis is somewhat used to this – court celebrations had always been long, and never entirely about person they're being thrown for, but certainly about spectacle. he's very good at spectacle. it's refreshing to see Will make it his own in all the small ways that he's excited, despite who wants to see them paraded, at the end of the day, it is theirs to claim.
they manage to sneak in another kiss before they leave to stand in front of Lady Gruidae, who awaits them in the garden under a flowered archway. this ceremony is far smaller, given the reasoning for it, but the Partisans are there, and quite a few of the elda from the village have shown up. Louis has more respect for the traditions of the elda than that of the church, and there is some private satisfaction in bringing them out of hiding and into the heart of Euchronia. to all there, the king is elda and the consort is clemar, but there are a few among the crowd that know the truth, that Lady Gruidae is marrying two elda.
she says something from the pages of a book that's tied back to ritual, knots their conjoined hands with ribbon at each passage. Louis isn't paying attention to her, his half-lidded eyes fixed on Will, who looks as if he has energy to spare. as each knot is tied, it reminds him of all the pain and joy it took them to get here – each one is a time when they met and parted, or when they tried to kill each other, or when they passed in the night, some nuance in their ideals not allowing them partnership.
there are drinks and snacks when it finishes, and they're sat at a table where some of the elda from the village offer their congratulations. somewhere between one person and the next, Louis tucks a white flower behind Will's ear before sitting back in satisfaction as the next person takes his attention. ]
[ Will looks up as the white flower is tucked into his hair; his gaze softens when it occurs to him what Louis has done. For all that he says he distanced himself from the elda, Will thinks, that quiet village really did live forever on in his heart.
They have had the marriage that Will's mother and father were never able to have — not that they were not married in their own quiet way, but Hythlodaeus V never enjoyed a public wedding celebrated by the kingdom and blessed by the church, and in history's eyes, he died loveless and alone. The secrets of those white royal flowers are theirs to bear, now, and Will swears solemnly in his own heart that he will give the pure white blossoms a better legacy.
At last, the wedding festivities come to an official close. The celebrations will no doubt continue throughout the week, as holidays have been called for nearly every industry to be found in Grand Trad, but even the kings of Euchronia must sleep, and the party has lasted long enough. To bring things to an end, the kingdom's foremost songstress has arranged for a special performance: the gorgeous sound of Junah's voice rings out over the eaves of the city, reaching every corner, every window, every shaded alley.
Will is still humming her song by the time the king and his consort retire, at last, to their bedchamber — the one they will share for the rest of their lives, barring temporary emergency, cozy naps in the garden, or gauntlet runner adventure.
It's strange to think that he was sick in this same bed only not too long ago. Even stranger, now, to think that the selfsame Louis he once swore to kill was there tending to him, and is now his lawfully wedded husband. His gaze softens as he looks up at Louis, reaches up to touch his face. The action jostles Will's royal cloak from his shoulders; it crumples heavily onto the floor. ]
...My consort.
[ He pays the fallen garment no mind as he caresses Louis's fine cheekbone with his thumb. ]
[ there are still well wishes and congratulations and they retire, it's already late into the evening, and the two of them have been up well before dawn. Louis still seems amenable, awake and unbothered.
still, the quiet feels nice.
there's no chatter to drown out the sound of the door clicking shut, or an echo of laughter so loud that he needs to lean closer to Will to hear his voice. it's just quiet; just the two of them. after loyalty, betrayal, death and ambition, here they were. there was always an intimacy that Louis felt when they fought, as if everyone else around the two of them faded away, and it was just the sound of their swords clashing. he feels that now, too.
Louis is impressed with Will's discipline, he half expected to be pressed into the frame of their door before they managed to get through it. the king has been quiet patient for someone who was at the door of the Charadrius not two days after their first tryst.
his expression softens somewhat as Will reaches for his cheek. ]
Moreso then I've been in a while.
[ that is the truth of it. Louis has been less troubled, and he doesn't know if it's because his ambitions have crumbled and he is no longer a slave to them, or if being by Will has made him content. it could be something with their magla, but he hasn't let his thoughts linger too much on it, perhaps one day he will.
when the cloak hits the ground, his eyes follow it, and he reaches forward to tuck his fingers in the loose hem holding Will's jacket together before tugging him forward. ]
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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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One major victory, he thinks, is how wonderfully public they've been. They've kissed each other before the eyes of all onlookers, more than once, and still even now, again and again, over the celebratory banquet. Louis keeps leaning in for kisses, for attention, for little bits and pieces of things Will has enjoyed eating: bidou, partridge, a bit of a peach crumble, even some long noodles from Heismay's eugief village. They hadn't really talked about boundaries or what they'd be demonstrating to the public, prior to the wedding, so Will feels aglow. Part of him had wondered if Louis would not want to show such vulnerability to the nation. He needn't have worried; Louis Guiabern fears neither judgment from mortal man nor the divine.
Even the naysayers who put real money on the idea that the wedding was a political stunt have been silenced now. They're the very picture of young love, young and beautiful and besotted with each other, and their good cheer has slowly started to infect the rest of Grand Trad. There's Loveless, loudly and drunkenly erupting in raucous good cheer; there's Catherina, dragging him down from a table and boxing him around the ears, yelling, "You're makin' us paripus look bad, you idiot!" Basilio is laughing; Fidelio looks as though he wants nothing to do with his fellow animal-eared tribesmen. Lady Gruidae is somewhere off to the side, floating on her carpet and watching the paripus brawl with an interest that ill befits her outward "vaunted elder" person.
Elsewhere, Edeni has engaged Bardon in conversation; Bardon seems somewhat flustered to be engaged on equal terms with someone he perceives as a graceful leader of his people. Across the way, Alonzo is toying with an elegant pipe between his fingers; he looks vaguely as though he wants to fill it with something and take a drag off of it, but a stern glance from Brigitta (who is entertaining children) stays his hand.
Will turns his gaze back towards Louis and feeds him another bite of apple pie. ]
Sorry, Gallica. You're going to have to get used to it.
[ He kisses a crumb off Louis's bottom lip, ignoring the way his fairy friend groans and slaps her forehead.
"You did something," she says accusingly towards Louis, though there's no real heat to it. "You made him stupid. Although, now that I think about it, I guess he was always kind of stupid..."
Will chuckles softly, not off-put in the least — it's true, he would have been very stupid without Gallica's guidence — but serenely continues: ]
Still, the tournament idea was kind of a surprise. Part of me almost wants to enter it myself... but I guess that wouldn't be very fair.
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to Louis, a celebration is a celebration, and this is, to an extent, his as much as it is Will's to drink in and enjoy. there's no need to hide his affection, especially when in contrast to skeptical onlookers and furious naysayers. it's enough for him to know that each time their lips touch that someone is getting mad about it.
he's partially paying attention to the wedding antics playing out in the garden, though his attention is on Will. all and all, Louis seems to enjoy his pie. ]
The king winning the king consort's tournament would stoke the conspiratorial flames of those determined to incite one.
[ though the thought itself amuses him to a degree. ]
During our rivalry, I remember you were among the top ranks in the coliseum. Do you crave a new challenge?
[ (he was keeping tabs on Will at the time, after all.)
it's an honest question – he had heard a lot about Will's climb to popularity, and it wasn't always speeches and kindness. there was a grittiness to it too: dungeons filled with monsters, dragons radiating fear, and humans that ravaged the countryside. Will is no stranger to battle. it's also a funny question, given that Louis is rather well-dressed in wedding robes, with his hair braided and pulled back as he asks it. ]
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[ It's still mysterious to him, even now, that they play off each other so well now that the kingdom is at peace. They converse so easily, so playfully, and even after all these weeks, Will's fascination with Louis hasn't ebbed in the least. Between each passing visitor and guest come to offer their congratulations and best wishes for the marriage, Will steals glances at his husband as if the sun rises and sets at his word.
Though his adoration doesn't seem to have diminished his own cocky confidence any, as he tilts his head and smirks and says — ]
Because I'd definitely win.
[ Well... he's not wrong.
Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he adds in a whisper: ]
I'm not sure there's a challenge more exciting than dueling you, anyway.
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Louis sits back, pleased. Will is being cocky, but he's certainly not wrong. the king would win – perhaps there's aspects of Louis' dream yet within the world, though it has mostly died. ]
Is that so?
[ Louis tilts his head, leaning in. his voice is as smooth as silk. as he speaks in gets closer, bridging the space between them. ]
Perhaps I could fulfill that need for you.
[ before Will can respond, Louis sits up and reaches for a piece of bread that's not far from him. there's an aristocrat approaching the dais, some daughter of a lord of a lord sort of thing. she leaves some candied fruit in front of them (which is whisked off by an attendant), and Louis gives his majesty a pointed look before he eats. ]
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No one ever said that they each needed to destroy the other. That seems a folly imposed onto them by the sins of other men.
Will's eyes lid seductively; he is comfortable with this new distance. He knows that everyone is watching, that the country will hear of this even if they do not see it personally, but he doesn't care. Let them watch. Let them listen. ]
You're going to fulfill a lot of needs for me...
[ Teasing, and quite happily flirting, Will opens his mouth for Louis to put — well, anything in it, really; those candied fruits were tempting, but since they've been whisked away, the king will most certainly accept a bit of his consort's piece of bread instead.
Gallica groans.
"Ugh, you two are just going to flirt all night, aren't you?" the girl grumbles, planting a fairy palm against her fairy forehead. Then she slides off the upside-down teacup she's been sitting on, smoothly sliding into her usual long-legged flying posture. "Forget it. I'm going to go see what Junah and Eupha are up to. Call me back before the knot ceremony!" ]
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and yet, here he was, leaning in and finding affectionate words for a king who defiantly, desperately saved him. it was not just Will's world that needed building, but pure rejection of the idea of duality. Louis had offered it in his own way, but a world monsters and bloody battle was not made of romance and fantasy.
his new husband is easily malleable, and from his bedroom eyes it's already easy to tell what's on his mind. ]
To think, we've been quite patient.
[ Louis takes a moment to admire him, his eyes closed and his lips parted, but he doesn't feed him just yet. he traces his lip from the center to the corner, as he seems to like to do, enjoying the soft shape before putting a jam-covered piece of sweet bread in his mouth. Gallica's already off before either of them can say anything, both of them a bit too entranced with one another to see her off.
not only did he not believe his the end of his prior ambitions would end in marriage, even less so did Louis Guiabern believe he would be feeding a lover on a flower-covered dais.
he hears someone whistle loudly at them, looking up directly at the noise that seems to be a very intoxicated Loveless. (somewhere in his brain he wonders where in any world that this uncultured half-wit became a candidate.) while he doesn't notice Louis' piercing gaze on him, Catherina picks up on it like a knife is held to Loveless' throat. she drags him down again, elbow around his neck and a curse on her lips.
"Don't pay attention to him, he's just an idiot!"
"Hey, shouldn't you be careful? No fights at the king's wedding!" someone hisses just above a whisper.
Basilio leans forward in his seat, clearly amused.
then Louis gets up and holds up his cup, everyone stills, as if holding their breath. ]
Come now, a wedding without a few good scuffles would turn out rather dull. A round for the winner.
[ it goes over well enough, with Loveless tumbling to the floor with a laugh that will surely be a few nasty bruises come tomorrow morning. it seems to put some ease to the room that felt that their way of celebrating may not be appropriate – well, times are different, now. ]
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Will can see on the faces of the guests who only know Louis by name and reputation, and never by his person, that all are somewhat impressed and astounded that the man is infinitely more relaxed than they expected him to be.
...Soon, everything settles again. Catherina is soon triumphantly enjoying the alcohol she earned as being the "winner" of the wedding brawls. Strohl seems to have found himself holding court amidst a gaggle of admirers; he looks flustered enough that Hulkenberg soon stages an operation to extract him from the crowd of noble daughters he seems to have somehow attracted. Even Eupha is tittering on a bench somewhere, swaying in the way she only gets when she's more than just slightly inebriated; fortunately, Edeni is soon by her side offering her water.
So it goes.
When the banquet has slowly come to a close and the woman who runs the castle kitchens darts out briefly to curtsy at her king before rushing back in to the fray, Will knows it is almost time to bring the festivities to an end. He turns and smiles at his beloved, his new life partner, rising to his feet and holding one hand out towards his impossibly perfect consort. ]
Shall we?
[ His voice softens, and he smiles. ]
...My love.
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while the guests finish their food and drink, both Will and Louis are whisked away to freshen up. there are a few outer layers that need to be changed, both of them need their hair attended to, and a breather to use the facilities before the next ceremony. Louis is somewhat used to this – court celebrations had always been long, and never entirely about person they're being thrown for, but certainly about spectacle. he's very good at spectacle. it's refreshing to see Will make it his own in all the small ways that he's excited, despite who wants to see them paraded, at the end of the day, it is theirs to claim.
they manage to sneak in another kiss before they leave to stand in front of Lady Gruidae, who awaits them in the garden under a flowered archway. this ceremony is far smaller, given the reasoning for it, but the Partisans are there, and quite a few of the elda from the village have shown up. Louis has more respect for the traditions of the elda than that of the church, and there is some private satisfaction in bringing them out of hiding and into the heart of Euchronia. to all there, the king is elda and the consort is clemar, but there are a few among the crowd that know the truth, that Lady Gruidae is marrying two elda.
she says something from the pages of a book that's tied back to ritual, knots their conjoined hands with ribbon at each passage. Louis isn't paying attention to her, his half-lidded eyes fixed on Will, who looks as if he has energy to spare. as each knot is tied, it reminds him of all the pain and joy it took them to get here – each one is a time when they met and parted, or when they tried to kill each other, or when they passed in the night, some nuance in their ideals not allowing them partnership.
there are drinks and snacks when it finishes, and they're sat at a table where some of the elda from the village offer their congratulations. somewhere between one person and the next, Louis tucks a white flower behind Will's ear before sitting back in satisfaction as the next person takes his attention. ]
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They have had the marriage that Will's mother and father were never able to have — not that they were not married in their own quiet way, but Hythlodaeus V never enjoyed a public wedding celebrated by the kingdom and blessed by the church, and in history's eyes, he died loveless and alone. The secrets of those white royal flowers are theirs to bear, now, and Will swears solemnly in his own heart that he will give the pure white blossoms a better legacy.
At last, the wedding festivities come to an official close. The celebrations will no doubt continue throughout the week, as holidays have been called for nearly every industry to be found in Grand Trad, but even the kings of Euchronia must sleep, and the party has lasted long enough. To bring things to an end, the kingdom's foremost songstress has arranged for a special performance: the gorgeous sound of Junah's voice rings out over the eaves of the city, reaching every corner, every window, every shaded alley.
Will is still humming her song by the time the king and his consort retire, at last, to their bedchamber — the one they will share for the rest of their lives, barring temporary emergency, cozy naps in the garden, or gauntlet runner adventure.
It's strange to think that he was sick in this same bed only not too long ago. Even stranger, now, to think that the selfsame Louis he once swore to kill was there tending to him, and is now his lawfully wedded husband. His gaze softens as he looks up at Louis, reaches up to touch his face. The action jostles Will's royal cloak from his shoulders; it crumples heavily onto the floor. ]
...My consort.
[ He pays the fallen garment no mind as he caresses Louis's fine cheekbone with his thumb. ]
Are you happy?
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still, the quiet feels nice.
there's no chatter to drown out the sound of the door clicking shut, or an echo of laughter so loud that he needs to lean closer to Will to hear his voice. it's just quiet; just the two of them. after loyalty, betrayal, death and ambition, here they were. there was always an intimacy that Louis felt when they fought, as if everyone else around the two of them faded away, and it was just the sound of their swords clashing. he feels that now, too.
Louis is impressed with Will's discipline, he half expected to be pressed into the frame of their door before they managed to get through it. the king has been quiet patient for someone who was at the door of the Charadrius not two days after their first tryst.
his expression softens somewhat as Will reaches for his cheek. ]
Moreso then I've been in a while.
[ that is the truth of it. Louis has been less troubled, and he doesn't know if it's because his ambitions have crumbled and he is no longer a slave to them, or if being by Will has made him content. it could be something with their magla, but he hasn't let his thoughts linger too much on it, perhaps one day he will.
when the cloak hits the ground, his eyes follow it, and he reaches forward to tuck his fingers in the loose hem holding Will's jacket together before tugging him forward. ]
... Come here.
[ his voice gets lower. ]
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