Chapter Text
The Kingdom of Faerghus had never had as great a cause for concern than Prince Dimitri. No one knew this better than Prince Dimitri himself; for ten long years the nation had languished without a King, and it seemed many more years yet would pass before the crown was placed on Dimitri’s brow. The old customs dictated that a man must be wed before he become a King, and therein was the problem. For, far and wide, Prince Dimitri was known as a beast. Uncouth, unkind, unmarriageable. Many had come to Faerghus attempting to win his hand, but all had balked and backed out upon actually meeting the Prince. Not even the dowry of a Kingdom was enough to persuade any woman (or man, for that matter) into marrying such a boar.
It was a cause of great consternation among his retainers, and Prince Dimitri knew this. Again and again, Gustave and Rodrigue would send missives out to the Houses of nobility in Faerghus, asking for a child to sacrifice for the greater good of the Kingdom, and again and again those requests were denied. No one could bear a burden as great as Prince Dimitri. No one cared to know him, let alone love him. They took one look at his rough manner and called him cursed, spiteful, arrogant, beastly. After years and years of hearing the same thing, who was Dimitri to tell them that they were wrong? And yet alas, his retainers never gave up on the concept. Marriage, they told him, was the only way forward for Faerghus. He would have to wed else the nation would be led into ruin. These days, it seemed that Dimitri’s life was filled with nothing besides appointments with potential suitors; every day some new youth was paraded before him in the hopes that he would finally take to them, and every time that potential suitor would walk out with their tail between their legs, defeated. Dimitri did not care. Everyone that his retainers brought to him was interested only in the prestige. The Kingdom and the status that came with being married to a King. All of them cared about the Prince.
Not a single one cared about Dimitri.
But Dimitri was not a trophy to be won, and he would not sit back passively and allow a stranger to take his hand. Gustave called him insane, waiting for a thing like love when politics were at stake. Rodrigue called him irresponsible, putting his desires before the needs of the Kingdom. But Dimitri would not budge, and while both men lamented the stubbornness that would be their undoing, still they persisted in their matchmaking game.
Today, it seemed, yet another candidate had been prepared. Rodrigue approached Dimitri in his study, courteous, deferential, and smiling as always. Yet Dimitri knew that look in his eyes. Hope mingled with dread… that could only mean one thing.
“Prince Dimitri,” Rodrigue addressed him with a deep bow. “You have a guest waiting in the antechamber,” he said, and Dimitri’s lips curled.
“Another dandy after my crown? Or some simpering fool who thinks they can win my heart?” he questioned, and Rodrigue straightened up.
“It is Grand Duke Claude von Riegan of the Alliance,” he answered – and to that, Dimitri’s brows lifted. Gustave and Rodrigue had brought him a man from outside of Faerghus? Immediately his eyes narrowed. No doubt this would be a man after his crown. No doubt this would be a man seeking only to expand his sphere of influence and his power. No doubt this would be a man with grand designs of a royal wedding on his mind. No doubt this would be a man who believed he was the one who could finally conquer the beast and claim Dimitri’s hand.
No doubt this would be a man who would run screaming for the hills when Dimitri showed him he would not be tamed.
“Best get this over with,” Dimitri said, bathing his quill in the pot of ink upon his desk and returning his attention to the documents he had been skimming before Rodrigue’s interruption. “Send him in.”
“Actually, your highness…” Rodrigue said with a waver of hesitation in his tone that made Dimitri raise his head once again. “The Duke insists you come out to meet him.”
Yet again, Dimitri’s eyes went wide. The utter audacity! Duke Riegan was a guest in his palace, and yet he had the brazen gall to command a Prince? Irritation, surprise, and just a smidge of curiosity burned through Dimitri as he stared at Rodrigue, who shifted uncertainly under his glare. Just what sort of man came here with a proposition to marry and did not even do the first thing Dimitri said?
Perhaps a man worth seeing for myself, Dimitri thought. Sitting aside his quill, the Prince stood, donning his fur-lined cape as Rodrigue was the one who now looked utterly appalled. But his retainer did not question Dimitri’s good humor, and instead swiftly ushered him along to the antechamber where the Duke awaited him.
Claude von Riegan was a man that the Goddess had dipped in gold. The antechamber was bright compared to Dimitri’s dark study, and when the Prince stepped into the room, Claude was the first thing that caught his gaze, standing there in the light. He was clad in yellow finery with the sunlight dancing off of his brown curls as it slanted in from the upper windows. His skin was honey-toned and his voice just as sweet as he spoke in hushed tones with Gustave. However, as soon as Dimitri stepped into the room, all that radiance was directed his way as Claude turned and met his eyes. Dimitri felt like he was staring into the face of the sun.
What a disappointment. It was only yet another pompous prick presented to pester him into a pledge of marriage. Dimitri knew the type from a mile away. Showed up in his silks and satin, surely Claude would sing sweetly to him until he saw the stubbornness of the Prince. And just as soon, all that sweetness would run out with the Duke, who’d flee through the door when he discovered he’d met his match.
“We will leave you two alone,” Gustave said, silently sweeping out of the room with Rodrigue. The door closed behind them, its empty echo sounding around them. Dimitri wore a glare to meet Claude’s smile. The Duke stepped closer, gave a deep bow, and then rose with a grin.
“Good morning, Dimitri. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I have heard so much about you.”
“Whatever you’ve heard, you must have heard wrong, else you are hard of hearing, to approach me with such a smile on your face,” Dimitri spat in reply, waiting for the façade to crack. “And that’s Prince Dimitri, to you.”
Much to his shock, Claude’s expression did not waver. “You lie; why should I not greet you with a smile? And why so formal as well, your Princeliness? I know that those closest to you just call you plain Dimitri, or sometimes you are called the Lion of Faerghus, but now that I see you in the flesh I can see you are no lion, but a dainty kitten!”
Dimitri was stunned into silence, torn yet again between shock and anger. Had this man just called him a kitten? Him, the future sovereign of this nation? The man whose heart Claude was trying to win?
He definitely had not done himself any favors with that comment, Dimitri decided. If Claude said he was a kitten, he was like all the rest. He did not know Dimitri at all. His brow set heavily over his eyes and his jaw clenched, but before he could speak a single word, Claude was talking yet again.
“Don’t be cross! Here, take this as my apology…” the Duke said, dropping once more into that grand bow. Still being bent at the waist, he lifted his head enough to look at Dimitri, and then his honey-lips spat more lies. “Having heard of you in every town during my travels, your mildness praised, your virtues hailed, and your beauty sounded, I had to come see you for myself. And what a sight! None of what I have heard does you justice, Dimitri-”
“Prince Dimitri-”
“Not to me! For those closest to you call you Dimitri, and soon you and I will be as close as two souls can be, because I am moved to woo you for my husband.”
“Moved?” Dimitri scoffed. This man could not be serious! Did he really think that Dimitri would stoop to marrying such a blind, arrogant fool? “Well, let whoever it was that moved you here promptly re-move you from my sight.”
The wry smile that crossed Claude’s face made Dimitri want to slap it away. “I have not moved an inch since I arrived here and I do not intend to be swayed otherwise. Why, Dimitri, can you not deny that you moved yourself here to see me?”
“I don’t have time for this,” Dimitri spat, shaking his head firmly. He would not be toyed with so! As though this man actually thought he had any chance in the world, coming in here and saying kind things. None of them were true, and this Dimitri knew. He was a brat, a beast, a-
“Wait, my Prince! If that is what you insist on being, then at least treat me as your esteemed lord, which chivalry dictates that you must entertain at least a while. Don’t be a bore!”
And there it was. “A boar, am I?” Dimitri asked, hissing the word as he took another step towards the door. “If I’m a boar, best beware my tusks.”
“Oh, tusks, have you? Tell me, if you did, where would you gore me?”
“Hah!”
The laugh left Dimitri’s lips before he could stop it, surprising Claude and surprising himself. Fighting to conceal his blush, Dimitri turned around with his expression burning (though not entirely with anger). Dimitri had thought he’d heard it all… every pretty word, every handsome lie that could be told. And here Claude was, implying vulgarity. That was no way to talk to a Prince! “Insolent. My bite is far worse than my bark, Duke Riegan, so you should mind yourself. I could destroy you with one wag of my tongue, and that is not the least of what I could do to you,” he growled. He meant it to be a threat.
He very obviously failed, and he knew it when Claude beamed at him in response.“Good sir! I am a gentleman! I ask for your kindly chivalry and company, and you come out with something so vulgar… please, I beg you! If you can destroy me with your bark, then I beg you to bite me.”
Dimitri realized his mistake there and then. By engaging in such wordplay, he had only encouraged the Duke. Well, Dimitri thought. Best to wipe away his illusions now. “Very well,” Dimitri said, striding forwards. He closed the distance between himself and Claude and raised his hand. Before Claude could even bat his eyes, Dimitri had struck the man across the face with such force as to send him careening to the ground, where he landed with a cold smack against the stone. Claude gasped, and Dimitri pretended that the noise did not affect him in the slightest.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked instead, watching the Duke work his jaw, gather the thoughts that had been knocked loose by Dimitri’s hand, and look back up. Now, Dimitri thought. Now was when he would run.
Instead, that damnable smile came back. “Satisfied?” Claude asked, pushing himself upright. “I most certainly am, but satisfied in nothing but the truth! I was told that you were rough and coy and sullen, and now I find every report a liar. You are pleasant, gamesome, and courteous, sweet as flowers in springtime. Why does the world slander you so?” he lamented, rising to his feet and raising his hands entreatingly towards the sky as though asking the divines themselves. “I could swear that if the Goddess herself stood in this room, she would pale next to you.”
“Does this drivel never cease?” Dimitri asked. How could Claude continue this game when Dimitri had shown him his true colors, shown him that everything the world said was true? “Where did you learn how to spout such nonsense?” he demanded, and the cheek Claude had in his grin made Dimitri see red that was deeper and darker than the handprint he’d left on the Duke’s cheek.
“I’m improvising.”
“Improvising?” Dimitri echoed. And with that one word, the truth of this situation became clear in his mind. He let out a growl, openly glaring at Claude. “Ah, now I see the truth of it. You are a jester, sent here to mock me.” What else could be the answer? Why else would Claude be standing here if it wasn’t all some sort of twisted joke? “Well, you’ve done your job and more than that. There is no room in my court for the likes of you. Faerghus is a bleak and inhospitable land with no room for jokes.” Raising himself to his full height, he stared coldly and imposingly down at the Duke. “Now that I know the truth, certainly you must, as well. Just as Faerghus is cold, so am I.”
Claude took a step forward, sliding into Dimitri’s personal space. “That which is cold can always be warmed…” he cooed, and Dimitri retreated back a step, ready to flee the room.
“What, by all your hot air? You waste your breath,” he insisted, but as ever, Claude was ready with his comeback.
“Nothing which keeps me in your company is a waste, husband-to-be.”
He… he was serious. After all of this, Claude was still serious about marriage. Dimitri was stunned into silence, and so Claude continued, folding his arms behind his head in a gesture of relaxed composure, all the while smiling like the cat that got the cream.
“The matter is already agreed between myself and your lords; they have all consented that we will wed. Remove the sand from your eyes and see it for yourself: I am the only man for you, because I am he born to tame you, Dimitri, and bring you from a wild boar to a noble bearing. It is I who will make you a king.”
The icy spike of betrayal wormed its way into Dimitri’s chest. Gustave and Rodrigue had finally done what Dimitri most feared they would. They had taken the choice from his hand.
His marriage was arranged.
As if they had been summoned by his mere thought, Dimitri heard the door behind him opening, followed by Gustave’s voice. “Your highness? How fares it?”
“How fares it? How could we fare anything but fair?” Claude answered readily, but Dimitri simply stared forward at nothing, an expression of slack horror on his face. Claude von Riegan. He was to marry Claude von Riegan.
“Say it isn’t so, Gustave.”
“Your highness,” Rodrigue interjected, “You must agree that this is best for the Kingdom…”
Something in Dimitri’s mind snapped, and he whirled on his retainers, fury and fear compounding on one another in his eyes. “You wish to marry me to a lunatic!” he screamed, but before either Gustave or Rodrigue could make reply, that damnable Duke was droning again.
“My lords, let me speak,” he entreated. “You and all the world have judged Dimitri far too harshly. Everyone that speaks of him speaks amiss! If he is cursed, then it is all an act! In fact, the two of us have gotten along so well, that we are agreed – Sunday shall be our wedding day!”
“Sunday?!” Gustave and Rodrigue burst in the same moment, and Dimitri seethed.
“I’ll see you hanged on Sunday first,” he hissed to Claude, and yet the man remained undeterred.
“Yes, hang me, just as you hung upon me with your arms. But that’s our little secret, isn’t it?” Claude gave him a wink before turning to Dimitri’s retainers, leaning in as though letting them in on some great conspiracy. “Listen here, my lords. We agreed between ourselves that when we are apart, his Highness will still behave as thus, sour in mood and cursed in company. Such is the depths of our love for one another that he cannot bear to smile if I am not with him! I tell you, it’s incredible to believe just how much he loves me!”
Dimitri was trapped now, and he knew it. He wanted to kick and scream and fight like a bear caught in a trap, lash out at Claude, lash out at his retainers, but with that clever, cursed tongue Claude had woven a web that Dimitri was netted in so easily. No matter how much he protested now, Gustave and Rodrigue would only believe that it was some game devised between them; between Dimitri and this madman. Said lunatic was now turning to Dimitri, grabbing his numb hands, and kissing his fingers as Dimitri stood there, paralyzed with shock.
“Kindest Dimitri, give me your hand and lament at our parting; I must return to Derdriu to buy everything we need for our wedding day,” Claude said, giving one more deep kiss to the Prince’s fingers before releasing him. Dimitri recoiled, but not a single person in the room paid any mind to that as Claude was turning towards Gustave and Rodrigue. “My lords, provide the feast and invite the guests; I promise you that all will be well.”
“I know not what to say,” Rodrigue said, voice hushed with surprise. But then he reached forward, clasping Claude’s hands and shaking both of them like they were old friends, a warm smile on his face. “Give me your hands and Goddess bless you, Claude. It’s a match!”
“Thank the Goddess, and thank you, Claude…” Gustave echoed, utter relief in his tone. Dimitri could behead them all right now and he would have not regretted it for an instant.
Instead, Claude had taken the floor once again, stepping back, smiling that annoying smile, and bowing before them. “My lords, and husband, I bid you adieu. Sunday comes quickly, so I must away! We will have rings and suits and a fine array… Kiss me, Dimitri!” he said, launching himself at the Prince, who screamed and went running from the room. Even so, he could not escape the words that echoed after him, dancing on Claude’s laugh.
“We will be married Sunday!”