Work Text:
Jane had forgotten the bitter cold of Derse’s winters. The winds that wound through the cobbled streets nipped at whatever you hadn’t had the foresight to cover, and if it wasn’t chilly rain seeping through your cloak, it was great big flakes of snow. As it was, Prospit’s capitol had comparably milder winters, and Jane had grown to prefer them, for there was no happy memory in these grey and slushy roads. There were only tired days trudging through the muck to the market, or miserable nights when it was too much to ask for a dry bed to return to.
But John and Jade, and even Jake – the moment the little party popped into existence before the castle gates in a crackle of Space, three sets of eyes widened in wonder as flurries spiraled down from heavy clouds, and were it not for the Dersite guards, it would have taken Jane at least an hour to pry her brother and cousins from the drifts, the deep imprints of their bodies less angelic and more as if they had toppled over the wall with the snow as their only cushion. They laughed as they tromped through the courtyard, and once they got inside, Jane helped them shed their cloaks. The entry hall was quiet, barren of the many guests they knew to be in attendance.
“Honestly, you guys!” Jane chided, “We’re not visiting Derse for fun, you know! This is-”
“-A blooming coronation,” Jake finished, beaming at her, “We know, you won’t let us forget it! But hot dog, can you believe His Majesty’s really going to be a King?”
Jane frowned. “Of course I believe it,” She said, “He’s of age. I’m to be crowned in the spring-”
“-Wouldn’t it make more sense if you were crowned now?” John asked, still fiddling with his cloak’s clasp. His had the unfortunate quirk of sticking when it was most inconvenient and opening when he needed it on the most. “I mean, technically, with the whole reincarnation revival thing, we all have the same birthday. I don’t get why we keep them separate.”
Though she too was still in a merry mood, Jade came to John’s aid, quickly sweeping the cloak away. “Because it’d be a huge pain in the butt if we had a giant birthday for everyone, duh! ‘Cause it’s not just us, it’s the trolls too. Would you really wanna plan a big silly birthday party for twenty people? Who probably all want different cakes and themes and guests and party games? It’d run everybody into the ground.”
“Haha, yeah, I guess it would-”
Jane snapped her fingers. “Guys, please! Focus! We’ve got to be as well behaved as we can, okay? There’s a lot more than just Dersites and Prospitians here today, and we’ve got to make a good impression. No stepping on anyone’s toes! We don’t need some jumpy dignitary declaring war on us anytime soon.”
If Jane had anything else to say, it was lost as the guards ushered them through the castle, and while in the clutches of her jangling nerves all was a blur, the only clarity being her family. They stood out against the purple finery of Derse, and how could they not? Each of them was dressed in gold from head to toe, with thick embroidered silks and dramatic colored sashes, things that imitated the silhouettes of Dersite dress while celebrating the vibrancy of Prospit. That, of course, didn’t mean either of them were comfortable. John had already loosened the cravat around his neck, and Jake had wrapped his arms around himself to compensate for the missing weight of his cloak; Jade had to readjust her sash every few steps, and the shawl wound around Jane’s shoulders never seemed to stay in place. But, somehow, they made it to the throne room where the ceremony was to be held, and amid a sea of foreign eyes they were guided to the front rows, where familiar faces eased Jane’s worries.
As she approached a seat, a lace gloved hand shot up to take hers. “Ooh, Janey! Janey Jane, come sit with us!” It was Roxy, ears and cheeks already red. Rose reached over to push her hand down, shushing her sister. Both wore dresses of pristine, violet velvet, and each had a tightly tied bodice in fine black.
“Not so loud,” Rose chided, fiddling with the white ribbon at her throat, “We’re to be impartial.” Roxy rolled her eyes and lulled her head some.
“Rosie,” She whispered, “We got ‘em sittin’ with family. Preeeeetty sure we’re the partialiest partials who ever partialed.” She gave the crowds behind her a surprisingly subtle shooing wave. “Or somethin’ like that.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “We’re to be sober as well, dear sister,” She said, and Roxy waved her off as well.
“It’s a party, and we’re of age in like…a day. I think I can be excused for breakin’ the rules just this once.”
With a sigh, Jane sat down next to Roxy, taking note of the soft scent of amaretto around her old friend; someone would have to watch her tonight, that was a given. She turned, and there across the aisle in a perfect line sat the Ladies and Lords of Derse, six sets of eyes and six sets of horns turned to her and her fellows in turn. She smiled and gave a little wave of her fingers. The Ladies waved back, Aradia with a little smile, Nepeta with vim and vigor, and Feferi with a beaming grin; each Lord was different, Sollux shrugging, Equius offering her a solemn nod, and Eridan turning away and pretending he had not noticed them. Each was dressed in their finest black things, everything crisply pressed, and it was…odd, Jane realized, that they were all present, nearly at the forefront of this grand event, while rulers far their elders all came in second.
Or, as the sudden sound of trumpets seemed to say, third.
All rose and looked straight ahead as the music started, but Jane peeked over her shoulder. She couldn’t help it; the prospect of dealing with so many monarchs unnerved her, and she just couldn’t fall in line. She only came to see him, anyway.
But she was a bit too early. It was Dave who came out first, clad in Dersite purple and shoulders set, and he took his time as he strode down the alley, every step measured and kept in time with the trumpets’ call. His darkened spectacles were strangely missing, and when he caught sight of Jane’s curious gaze his eyebrows quirked up just so. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
When he stood at attention at the front of the room the trumpets silenced, and now the others turned, those on the edges of the aisle leaning over to get a better look at the approaching monarch. Jane had to stand on her tiptoes just to catch a glimpse, but even then she only saw the top of his head, and she shifted this way and that, trying so hard to see him –
And then he was there. The crowds leaned back as Dirk approached and leaned back when he passed, like a wave cresting for the bow of a boat. He, like Dave, had been adorned in rich purples, though a spot of orange fabric rested at his throat, enlivening his bare eyes – there must have been quite a row when that decision was being made, Jane thought, and she made sure to meet those eyes, though how they made her stomach flutter! She made sure to smile, and held back the urge to reach out to him as he passed. Even the slightest tilt of the head could be problematic – the both of them had to be partial in front of the world.
Still, Dirk gave her a small and secret smile, and his eyes only left hers when he could no longer look at her out of their corner– and they met again when he turned to face the crowd, if just briefly. Jane bowed her head as the crowd sat once more, her cheeks tingly and warm.
The coronation itself was not the most boring thing Jane had sat through as a Princess, but it was somewhat close to the top. It was supposed to be a serious ceremony, and it was executed perfectly down to the tiniest of details. In lieu of the highest of Lords, Dave read the oaths and duties and other such pleasantries that his brother had to swear by, and when the time came he would gesture towards each Lord and Lady of Derse, and they would rise and pledge their loyalty to Dirk, all with a particular clarity that none put into practice, not even Rose. They had rehearsed this extensively, and the Prospitians exchanged glances and smiles bitten back by their prominent teeth, highly amused. Dirk was crowned, not with the princely circlet he had once sported, but with something heavy and properly Kingly, and not once did he let his head bob under its weight. That more than anything stirred Jane, though she could not quite tell how.
The feeling lingered as the ceremony ended, and it followed her to a great hall, which had been prepared for a party much finer than Jane had ever seen. There was a small band to the side that started up as soon as folks filed in, and servants in grey fluttered to and fro with drinks and finger foods; tables and chairs had been set around the edges, and all the space in the middle had been left for dancing or whatever activities the guests wished to do.
As if in an instant, Jane was separated from her fellows as they were swept up by the other guests, either in dances or curious conversation, and she was left at a loss for what to do. She should – talk to people, really, or at least push her way to Dirk and offer her respects, wherever he was. Yes, Dirk was a far less scary prospect, much more familiar. Jane took a deep breath and started to make her way.
As she passed a group of dignitaries, something took hold of Jane’s arm and pulled her back, and though she yelped, she was not turned loose. “Now this young lass is in a hurry!” Said a voice, and when she turned, it was to see that a relatively portly man had drawn her into a gaggle of equally aged gentlemen. He had a particularly fine mustache, well groomed and yet bristly, and it caught Jane’s attention as he and his fellows took in her golden gown with appraising, twinkling eyes. “Where might you be from, My Lady?” The mustache man asked, and it snapped her back to reality.
“Oh-” Jane pulled her arm back, and the man relented, so she was able to curtsy. “Erm, well, I’m from Prospit, sir. Jane Crocker of Prospit. Um, if you could please excuse me, I would like to pay my-”
“Crocker you say?” Another man asked, leaning forward. He was quite tall and skinny, with a distinct lack of facial hair – in fact, he was nearly bald. “I’d heard rumors of Prospit’s Crown Princess using that name – could it really be you?” He flinched when a third man knocked his shoulder, his dark brows knitted in disapproval.
“If she is, you’ve gone and made a terrible impression. We are Dukes! Every princess is shown respect!”
“You are Dukes,” The mustache man said, as if reminding his fellows, “I am a King, and every woman is show respect, dear brothers.” He bowed. “I apologize for them, Your Grace, it has been a trying day. We worry for the journey home and what the snow will bring, as well as all the buzz that’s arisen about this fair country – and your own, it must be said…”
The man rambled on, not seeming to care whether Jane paid attention, but she made an effort to seem as if she was, nodding and humming at certain points, her gazes around them furtive. Where was Dirk in this mess? She had to slip away, no matter how lovely the first man’s mustache was. After a time, the other men cut in, edging concern in their voices, while their friend frowned.
“I’ve heard tell of rumors of witchcraft in your courts,” Said the tall man, “Is it true?”
“We’ve also heard of the monsters you entertain as citizens – though now we have seen them for ourselves,” The dark browed man added, “How can you let such things assist in governing your people, I ask you-”
“Well the whole land is lost if the kings and queens are dabbling in insidious arts-”
“You do realize how awful you paint yourselves by slinging about allegations,” Mustache man grumbled, though he too glanced warily at a troll servant that happened to pass by. Jane took fistfuls of her dress, ready to leave the men then and there, when she heard something so brazen it literally stopped her in her tracks. “How do you expect to make a case for your sons if you cannot garner the graces of a wife?”
“…Excuse me?” Jane asked. The mustache man paled.
“No, he’s right,” The tall man said, “Do forgive me, Your Grace, and please, consider us when you have come of age. I have several sons who would serve you quite well when the time comes.”
“But my sons are finer!” The dark browed man exclaimed, nudging his friend to the side, “You could never end up with a better husband! Or, ah, partner in affairs, as they say, in our land-”
The mustache man seemed to be the only one who was properly aware of Jane, for his skin was practically the color of milk as he noticed how red she had become. “Brothers, please,” He warned, but it was too late, and Jane loosed her dress.
“I believe,” She said, breathing hard through her nose, “That before you presume to trot me down the aisle with the picks of your litters, you should – you should not make assumptions, not of my friends and not of me!”
“But your duty, Your Grace-”
“My duty is to my people and no one else,” She snapped, and with a turn of her heel she began to leave, “And I don’t answer to foreign Kings or Dukes or anything like that! So do not presume I do just because I am new to you!”
The party did not come to a halt when she stormed out of it, and the men who had accosted Jane lost sight of her as soon as she slipped through the crowds. That had probably been foolish and rude of her, but at the moment, she didn’t care. What a thing to be forced into when her nerves were so short! What a thing to propose to someone you barely knew! Jane seethed as she walked, and the stray servants of the castle did well to get out of her way as she passed.
When she finally came to her senses, it was because of a great gust of icy wind. She had reached a covered walkway, a solid wall on one side and arches on the other where the snowy courtyard sat. Jane paused at an arch, leaning against a pillar and looking out into the night. The world was surprisingly bright when it snowed, the overwhelming white almost like the fullest moon in a clear sky, and its silence was calming, entrancing. Jane wasn’t sure how long she stood there, alone and in the cold with the bustle of the party barely a thought. When she shivered, she wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulder, trapping the last little bit of heat in her body. When a door opened and shut nearby, she thought she was hearing things, and then…there were footsteps.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What about the party made you so offended that you couldn’t even stick around to say hi?”
Jane turned, and when she spotted Dirk before her, his triangle spectacles back where they belonged, she turned a brilliant red and bit her lip in embarrassment. She made a deep and hasty curtsy, wobbling on her feet. “I – oh! – I’m sorry, Dirk, I had meant to – but I was taken aside – I got so -”
“Okay, hold on,” Dirk said, holding his hands up in front of him, “Take a breath first, and then tell me what’s up, and…oh my God. Stand up, you’re going to fall over.” He came forward and took her by the arms to steady her. “Please don’t ever bow or anything in front of me unless you have to, okay? This shit is still really fucking weird.” His head lulled forward a bit, and up this close, Jane could see that the weight of his new crown did strain him a bit. She reached up to brush its grooves, and her thumb found a smooth fire opal.
“This crown on your head is really weird! You don’t have to wear it all the time, do you?”
“What?” He reached up to touch the crown himself, their fingers brushing. “No, just for now and for the important stuff. Top-of-the-line Kingly Business, patented and all.” A pause. “You’ll be getting one too, in the spring. Or so I hear.”
She blushed, her eyes flitting down. “Should I even bother sending invitations to the lot of you? Is it a necessary evil?”
Dirk leaned closer, and the tips of their noses brushed. “I’d like to get one, but it’s nice to know that someone assumes something of me and it’s actually right. And, you know, considerate of my feelings.”
Jane looked up in that moment, and though the spectacles were a curtain she still knew that Dirk met her eyes with an unwavering strength. She took a slow breath. “You too, huh?”
He frowned and pulled back. Even after all this time, his emotions were slight and barely discerned, but up this close Jane could see every little twitch. “Oh, don’t tell me some guy thinks they’re my competition. Don’t be the bearer of that news, Jane. It already smarts to have ladies throwing themselves at my feet, practically begging to get in on Derse’s secrets and my pants. I can’t pull double duty for you too.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Double duty? Excuse me, Dirk, but I can take care of Prospit and anyone with designs for it. What kind of ruler would I be if I couldn’t?” When her sour expression didn’t fade, Dirk leaned forward again so their foreheads touched. The edge of his crown was cold on Jane’s skin.
“One who couldn’t pull double duty and save two kingdoms at sixteen years old,” He said softly, and he smiled – but Jane wasn’t falling for it. She pulled herself out of his grasp and walked out into the snow, pulling her shawl tighter around her and holding her head high.
“Tease me again and I’m going to think twice about this funny courting of yours.” She gave him a Look over her shoulder. “And just in case you don’t think I’m serious, rest assured that I most certainly am.” She paused, and found some words from before worth repeating. “I don’t answer to any foreign Kings.”
“No, I doubt you ever will,” He said. The funny stirring inside reared its head, and Jane turned away to look out into the snow as he continued. “Look, I get it. This whole production? It’s phony as can be, and I hate it too. If I never had to deal with half the windbags in that ballroom ever again, it’ll be too soon.”
“But I’ve got to try, don’t I?” Jane asked. “Is that what you’re going to say?”
Dirk paused. Jane could hear the soft crunch of snow behind her, and her shoulder seized in anticipation of his touch, but it never came. “Well, in a way? But this is more thinking along the lines of making it easier on the both of us in the long run, because being proposed to on the first not-date is pretty much the top of the mountain of things that are universally creepy. If we’re going to put up with these people, we should make it so they have fewer and fewer avenues to screw us over. And maybe it’d be a good idea if we did it together.”
The courtyard was silent for a time as Jane mulled the words over. They were rather weighty things, and upon thinking on them, she pressed a hand to her chest to calm her heart. She couldn’t jump to conclusions after all.
“Your Majesty,” She said slowly, her words barely there above the wind, “Do forgive me if I’m mistaken, I may be reading far too much into your words, but it almost sounds as if you’re…proposing to me.”
“And if I am?” Dirk asked, his voice at her ear. Jane turned sharply to face him. “We’ve known each other for a while now. Been doing the dating thing, I guess, if constant letters and crappy excuses for diplomatic rendezvous count, and it’s not like we have to choose which castle to live in. Need I remind you of the Scratchlands project? And our huge meeting there in the spring?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Kings and Queens in other places have tied the knot and popped out heirs in the time it’s taken us to get to today,” Dirk continued, “And in all honesty, I’d much rather make that kind of commitment to someone who actually knows me, rather than someone who thinks they can know me.”
“And you think it’s appropriate?” Jane asked, “You think it’s just fine and dandy to ask me to marry you during your coronation – on your birthday?!?”
“If you’d rather I ask again tomorrow, I will. But I’d like an answer.” He smiled. “It’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid. But if you need time, you can have as much of it as you want. Cross my heart.”
Let’s not cross your heart, Jane wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat. She knew she had to say something, though. Dirk would be missed inside and so would Jane, and the cold had already begun to make her shake to her very core. But that could have been less of the weather and more of her heart, unprepared for such a thing to ever come from Dirk. It sounded a bit silly, but perhaps Jane had always thought they would live in their little bubble of a world, with just Prospit and Derse and their families of both kin and court – and that was when she realized it. She wasn’t frightened because she wanted to impress the outside world. She was frightened because the outside world had reared its head at all, that it was unknown and dangerous and could have plans for them that they couldn’t thwart as they could Caliborn and Calliope. But to know that Dirk wanted to face this new frontier with her together, that what both countries already knew as a partnership would be forever obvious to the world was a beautiful thing, more precious than crowns and kings.
“…We shouldn’t announce it right away,” Jane said, “Perhaps after I’ve got a crown, too. It will look much stronger for a King and Queen to agree to marry than it will a King to take a Princess.”
“I agree. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking they can roll over either of us so easily.” Dirk’s response was too quick, as if he were putting all his effort into not rushing to embrace her, but his enthusiasm still leaked out wherever it could. “But we’ll have to put on smiling faces when we turn other people down-”
“-Or just deal with them only when we have to. And, oh gosh, maybe this should just be between us for a while? I mean, I love John and Jake and Jade, but they might spill the beans, and once the beans are spilt it’s such a hassle picking them back up again-”
“-Yeah, and then you get beans stuck in places that you can’t reach, and rats sniff ‘em out and start making colonies in your walls, hoping for more beans-”
“Dirk, no, you’re running away with the saying-”
“Of course I’m running away with the saying, you just agreed to marry me!!” And any restraint he had was thrown away, for Dirk rushed forward and picked Jane up to twirl her about, and she laughed and laughed until she was red in the face. “Holy fucking shit, this is crazy-”
He would have gone on, Jane later supposed, if Dirk hadn’t lost his footing, and they hadn't gone tumbling down into the snow. They were sore and cold and now quite wet, but the both of them laughed, their arms entwining around each other as hundreds of beautiful, delicate snowflakes fell around them and on them like legions of shooting stars.
And maybe – just maybe, mind you – Jane could find it in her to allow the winters of Derse to give her one happy memory.