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Etiquette and ballroom dances. Proper manners and royal titles. Fancy dresses and in-passing politics lessons.
Somewhere along the way, her leisure time became one tight schedule overflowed with unsolicited fun facts and even more unwanted tutoring. The High Cleric thought she was being real discreet, Rayla knows better than to overlook the inherent nature of her advances.
Admittedly, it hasn’t always been like that.
During the very first few years in Katolis, her modus vivendi didn’t undergo big changes — nobody pressured her to make alterations in that sort of matter which was a huge relief considering she wasn’t exactly thrilled for more major changes in her life. There were enough as they were.
And she had come to enjoy her time in the royal castle, despite the small... nuisances. However, the fact that it was where her favorite humans were made up for it.
Granted, it took quite some time for normalcy to finally settle in. Her presence was a sore topic for almost everyone in the castle and rumors were being spread quicker than a bolt of lightning between the townsfolk. Up until this day, there were still some dirty looks thrown her way. Sometimes followed by a derogatory comment muttered under their breath.
And she gets it, she really does because saying that she didn’t have biases of her own would be a blatant lie. But she has worked through them, really. Though there are still some people that try hard enough to prove her wrong.
Sometimes it became a little too much to handle and it was easy to get overwhelmed by it all.
She furrowed her brows at the image of herself in the mirror, her fingers itching to untie the intricate updo that she had smiled forcibly at when it was initially being done. Rayla twirled revealing the unfastened laces at the back of the dress, and let out a huff at the sight of them because at this point they were outright mocking her. She reached for them once again.
Every year a ball was hosted to reinforce the relationships amongst the kingdoms that made up the Pentarchy, and this time that duty fell on Katolis (this was the sixth of the year, perhaps?). She likes to believe that at this point she has gained some sort of experience at these kinds of events. The names of every royal still give her a headache — honestly, who needs to remember the title and full name of the sister of the brother-in-law of the second-degree cousin of the queen? — but the High Cleric hasn’t given her that pointed look since two balls ago whenever she messed something up. She must be doing something right, or at least she hopes so.
Because ever since last summer she went from being the Prince’s suitor to being the Prince’s fiancée and now every step mattered tenfold.
Rayla sighed before letting out a groan of frustration at the uncooperative laces. Or maybe at the updo. Or maybe at the thought of the ball going on downstairs.
A soft knock on the door made her turn around and—
“Rayla, can I come in?”
There could be worse things than fancy dances and a sophisticated wardrobe, she thought.
The smile was instantaneous as if his voice was all it took to put everything else on the back burner. Which it did.
She went to open the door, the corner of her mouth lifting when her eyes landed on a very dressed-up Callum. Somehow the Katolian reds and blues made him look every bit like the royal that he is, and the fact that they always seemed to accent him pretty well was only a bonus that she was very much thankful for. “Well, don’t you look dashing?”
Rayla offered him a half-smirk, eyeing him appreciatively.
So what, her boyfriend was handsome, sue her.
He gave her a soft look and gods, she may as well melt on the spot. He reached one hand to tuck a strand of hair that rebelled against the updo behind her ear, his fingertips gently lingering on the pointed shell before going to cup her jaw, “And you look stunningly beautiful,” he said above a whisper and she smiled — which honestly was just her default facial-expression whenever he’s around at this point.
And then his lips twitched in the slightest, “one hundred percent would ravish.”
She laughed.
She expected something like that to stumble past his mouth the moment he gave her one of their secret grins, the ones that non-verbally told each other that they very much rather bask in adoration and lust and love than anything else, the ones that they have been perfecting since a couple of months ago when wordplay started to fail them horribly. She’s still trying to forget the incident with the sandwiches.
When the laughter ceased, she looked at him and saw him beaming, and maybe that was his plan all along.
“You are devious.” She smacked him lightly on the arm and headed towards the mirror once more to finish the laces up. Rayla had long since tried to erase the smile off her face, it’s permanent now, and if someone asks she’ll just point towards him.
“Well, I have to keep up.”
She shook her head at him while looking over her shoulders at the tangled mess on the back. Why do they make dresses so difficult to tie is beyond her.
Rayla felt his hand coming tentatively to grasp the laces from her, “May I?”
She shot him a dubious look because really, at this point she’s sure that they are in that part of their relationship in which they are past shyness and doubtful hand placements and hesitating kisses and cautious lifelong promises.
He might have seen through her logic because he rolled his eyes playfully, “What? I’m a gentleman.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m pretty sure that what went down on the utility closet would like to disagree.”
“Oh, come on, that was a one-time thing.” He laughed, his hands coming to the small of her back to disentangle the various knots she involuntarily made while trying to lace them. “Besides, you liked it.”
The featherlight touch of his fingers derailed her train of thought for a second. Gods, she’s such a mess. A head-over-heels-in-love mess. “That I did.” She grinned.
She turned to look at the mirror, watching him tying the laces as concentrated as when performing a new spell. It was adorable.
“There, all done.” She heard him say after a while, voice closer than she originally thought. Rayla felt his arms coming to encircle her waist from behind followed by a chaste kiss being placed on her cheek. She let out a sigh of contentment before leaning back against his chest, breathing in deeply. It was moments like these when she forgot about Opeli’s insistence — all well-intended — on teaching her every bit about royalty, when what the townsfolk thought about her turned insignificant, when elegant gatherings became bearable.
Because contemplating the mundane reflection of each other in the mirror elated her heart to a whole other level. Because they were not Callum and Rayla: Prince and soon-to-be Princess of Katolis; they were Callum and Rayla: two people very much in love.
“You know I love you so much, right?”
The question almost made her snort because she’s sure not only she can see it but also pretty much everyone around them. The teasing they had to endure from Soren at the beginning was insufferable.
Instead, she turned around in his arms and looped her arms around his neck shooting him a smile (her cheeks are starting to become numb from much smiling but she doesn’t care) that she hoped conveyed all her adoration towards this dumb human. But she’s sure her eyes were the ones that gave her away anyway.
“I do. And I love you so much, too.”
He smiled a blinding smile but there was still something bothering him that hasn’t quite made it out.
Callum closed his eyes before opening them and she nearly had to do a double-take at the earnest look that soon overtook his features. “And that you don’t have to—” he began but shook his head, gulped, and started again, “I know that it might get overwhelming at times and seem like everyone is asking a lot from you, but you don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with.” He said softly, his arms reaching for her hands to lace their fingers together.
“I want you to feel at ease.” Callum rubbed the side of her hand with his thumb, and the feeling might have been distracting if his eyes hadn’t been boring a hole in her soul.
Her lips curved and she stretched forward to place a kiss on the tip of his nose, “I”, a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “love”, a kiss on the other side, “you”, a quick peck on the lips.
She chuckled at the dazed look on his face before sobering up, “I admit that I wasn’t prepared to all of this, and yes, there are times in which I feel so out of place but nothing I can’t handle, really.” Rayla ended with a lighter tone, but the intense, almost sad look on his face remained stock-still.
She sighed, “Look, it will take a while until I get used to this and until then I’m going to experiment more downs than ups, but I love you and Ez and, heck, even Soren, and that’s enough.” Now it was Rayla’s turn to rub circles soothingly on his hand, offering him a reassuring smile.
“We’ll get through this, right?”
“Of course. Together, always.”
And if she ended up going to the ball with an alteration to the updo, there was only a softer knowing look across Opeli’s face.