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Jean never intended on marrying a man. He loved them, liked having sex with them, but... marriage?
"Mom I'm your only son! Wh-what am I supposed to do? How am I gonna have kids? Isn't the entire point of these things to, y'know... secure, stuff.... Like, forever?" Jean motioned wildly with his hands, unable to say it in plain words.
Chantal, his mother, didn't bat an eyelash as she let her son throw his fit. "There's more than one way to have children, dear. I don't see why you're worried about what will happen after you're both gone. You've never had any interest in the future of this country before."
Jean shoved his hands in his pockets, pacing around the office with a huff. "Doesn't he have any sisters!?" Surely their family wanted their bloodline to continue.
"Yes; Three actually, but this is the agreement we came t--"
"Why am I marrying him then!? Are they married!?"
Chantal's eyebrows scrunched up, "That is the last time you're raise your voice to me! The least you could do is go outside and meet him. You always knew you wouldn't marry someone of your choosing; Do not be so picky about it."
"Bu--"
"Go. Now."
Not wanting to invoke his mother's true wrath, Jean bit his tongue.
Reluctantly, he made his way out to the garden. Taking a deep breath, straightening posture to appear presentable, Jean walked outside.
Stunning.
The only word Jean could even begin using, to describe what awaited him.
Long, golden blonde hair, tied up in a beautiful braid, making evident just how impossibly long their hair was. It reached almost to the ground, intertwined with the knots were strings of different colors, and flowers he'd never seen before.
Jean studied the intricate braid as he walked closer. He was careful, as if he were approaching something like a unicorn: Beautiful, bright, the smallest of movements as fluid and effortless as the spring breeze.
"Oh... hello, Jean." They'd turned, which only strengthened the thunderous beating of Jean's heart.
"Yes it's... it's lovely to meet you," He gasped out, blinking wildly, as he was unsure how long he could look into the captivating, deep blue eyes staring back at him. Blue eyes weren't a myth, yes, but he'd never imagined them being so... inviting.
"Armin, my love."
Undoubtedly, the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.
---
Someone had to break the silence.
"Uhm... I'm sorry they had you cut your hair." Jean mumbled, rubbing one of his knees as he looked back and forth between the bed, and his new husband. Armin was standing by the massive bay window they had, staring out at the garden solemnly.
Armin hummed in acknowledgement, "Mmm, it's only fair. I respect your culture, you respect mine; That's why we're here, after all."
The "here" Armin was referring to was the lavish room they were stuck in for the next 3 days. Jean didn't understand all the details, just that this was somehow a royal wedding ceremony according to the Arlert family.
"Why... why are you acting so, so cold with me? I thought... after we got married you wouldn't be so, whew, distant?" Jean had been convinced that it was just, diplomacy! A way to appear unoffensive in the months leading up to the wedding.
Even beforehand, though, Armin's behavior had been wearing on Jean. It started with, typical courting: Objects of affection gifted at the proper intervals, the occasional serenade, private walks in the garden together, and more! A delicate combination of what he'd heard was popular in Armin's country and what he'd always done with the people he'd seduced over the years. But Armin never seemed very interested.
Armin wandered over towards the door, "My sisters all wanted to marry for love-- That's what we do. That's why I volunteered to th-- us. To us. And, if one of us walks out of here, before this ceremony ends? The marriage is off-- Instantly annulled the moment someone finds out."
Jean's eyebrows shot up, lips parting slowly. The gears in his head were turning, trying to make sense of it all. "Wh--.... I don't...?"
Armin fiddled with the doorknob, one finger after the next caressing the imperfect old brass. "My parents would be furious, but my people?" He looked back to Jean, eyes no longer solemn. "They'd understand. What your mother asked of us is.... Strange to us."
"What's your point?"
"My point, Jean, is that you don't love me. You never did. For all the times you said it you just, thought you did. But you don't know who I am or anything about where I come from and...." He trailed off with a sigh. Whatever fire had been giving him steam must not have been strong enough to keep him going.
"Th-then tell me! We can talk about it, this is... this is...." There were no words to describe how he felt, at least, none that Jean wanted Armin to hear.
Armin's head tilted to the side, eyes only half open and directed at the ground. "I never wanted to marry, Jean."
He finally came to the bed, slowly pushing the covers aside. "Any kind of marriage."
The addition was a shock to Jean, but Armin wasn't finished. "I'm sorry, but it's not you. In fact?" He climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up half way.
"Where I'm from?" A small smile tugged at the corner of Armin's mouth, his hand lifting to cup the side of Jean's face. "People might think that you're just, the most beautiful person alive."
Jean could tremble, and he would have without Armin there to hold him so. He watched Armin's lips move, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
Armin's thumb smoothed across Jean's jawline, causing the confused brunette to blink rapidly. His hand was so warm, he could just... close his eyes and--
"But it's not enough to just be... alluring, in someone else's eyes." He pulled his hand away, letting it fall to the mattress.
Jean breathed out shakily, then readjusted himself to sit up straight.
"I might not ever love you, Jean. I don't... think I can."
Jean swallowed.
"Can you live with that?" Armin returned eye contact.
What would hurt more? A life in a loveless marriage, breaking it off entirely to the disappointment of his country, or a life of unrequited love...?
"I...." His heart didn't pound like it did the first time they met, though the excitement of the night surely had him reeling.
He could leave, and his mother would be forced to find him someone else to marry. Armin would be... free.
"M-maybe you can," Jean started, lifting his hands up gently in order to give Armin pause, who'd quickly dawned alarm on his face.
"And maybe, you can't.... But I think I..." He let his hands down, satisfied to have put Armin back at ease. Once more, Jean swallowed, sure of himself now.
"I think I will. Love you, that is, just... with time. How you'd like it-- if you want to." Jean finished, more quiet than he realized.
They both stared at each other, time going by impossibly slow. Frozen in time as they took each other in, genuinely for the first time.
"Jean... I'll always, always stand by you in running yo-- our country, and I won't deny you a family, or...." Armin seemed at a loss for words, shaking his head lightly, gaze drifting down to the space between them.
"And if I love you?" Jean spoke barely above a whisper.
Eyes snapping back upward, Armin inhaled sharply. "That would...." His eyes softened. "That would be alright, with me."
Attempting to resist, but ultimately failing, Jean's lips quivered and twitched into a wide smile. "W-well, we have another two days left in here, don't we?"
"Let's talk about you."
Armin returned the smile, placing a hand on top of Jean's.
"Let's talk about us."