Chapter Text
Gregory Lestrade had always known that he would never marry for love. As the only heir to the throne of his father's kingdom, he knew that his marriage would be strategic and planned so it would benefit his father's lands. It wasn't ideal for the young prince, but it was understandable. Well, it was only understandable since it had been imprinted in his mind from a young age, but it made sense that the soon-to-be-king should always have his land's wellbeing at the front of every one of his decisions.
The prince had never once been allowed to roam the streets outside of his father's caste; he had never interacted with the village folk that lived right outside his front door. Greg had never had friends other than his butler - whose friendship had to be kept secret from his father - and his Royal Advisor, Sally. Despite his two friends, Greg had grown up a lonely child, knowing that he would one day inherit the kingdom that his father ruled over with an iron fist, choosing fear over love, and have to marry someone he had never set eyes on before. Instead of fearing his future, however, the young prince had taken his duties on with a smile, winning his teachers over with a joke and a cheesy grin. Everyone described him as the polar opposite of the man who currently sat on the throne, although no one could say that to the king's face, and his teachers and the servants in the castle were enthusiastic to spend as much time tending to the boy prince as was possible.
Greg was only seventeen when the inevitable happened. One day he was reading in his chambers, a cup of hot tea by his side and a dozen candles illuminating his bedroom with a soft, angelic glow; and the next, he was leaned over a desk with his hand forced through his hair as he signed various treaties and laws, a pile of papers to one side that he daren't look at. His father's funeral papers. His own coronation papers. Sally wanted him to look through them as soon as possible, but Greg couldn't face them just yet. No one had even known the king was sick - the former king, now. Not even Wilson, the king's Royal Advisor, had been aware that his health was deteriorating. And then, one day, a fearful and skittish servant had found the king lain dead in his bed, a note rolled on his desk addressed to only be read by Greg.
"Dearest Gregory,
I know my death will come as a shock to you, and to everyone in our kingdom, but I simply could not disclose information of my illness. I am aware that most believe me to be tyrannical and uncaring, especially after the passing of my beloved wife, and I would not blame you for thinking the same of me, but all I wished for was that you focussed on your studies and your responsibilities rather than worrying about myself.
You will make the most fantastic king, I know, my son. Please forgive me for leaving you so soon - I had wished to see your wedding day and congratulate you on finding happiness and companionship with another - but I had no choice. The fates have not been kind to our family. Although we may be blessed with wealth and power, we are also cursed to be alone with so many people surrounding us. Do not curse your betrothed with the same fate I cursed my beloved wife with. Bless them with the life that I should have been able to give you.
I suppose I should tell you what you have always wanted to hear, and I can only regret it will not come from my mouth itself. Your betrothed hails from the kingdom of King of England, Siger Holmes. He is second in line to the throne and will unite our two lands, providing unlimited opportunities for trade and wealth. I do hope I have made the correct choice for you, my dearest son. Be kind to him, just as I am sure he will be to you.
I am truly sorry I will no longer be there to guide you and assist you in your journey through life, but I will miss you every day I reside in heaven, and your mother and I will be smiling down on you and your husband.
I love you unconditionally, dearest Gregory. Even if I may not always have shown it.
Forever,
Your father"
It had only been one day since the king's passing, but Greg had read those words so many times that he could recite them if he so wished to. But those words were for his eyes and no one else's; not even Sally's. It was the first real confession of love Greg had ever heard from his father, and yet them as though they were centuries old. They were words Greg would never forget, not for as long as he lived.
Even through the haze of his father's confessions, the knowledge of who the prince was to marry was still startling. A prince from England. Suddenly all of his lessons from his youth made sense. Learning English alongside French, the native language of his country, was to ensure Greg could communicate with his to-be-husband. Being taught traditional English dances was to prepare Greg for his first marriage dance. It had all settled into place in the prince's mind, yet none of it seemed real. Not his father's death, not his upcoming coronation, and certainly not his swiftly arriving marriage.
-
By the time the month was out, Crown Prince Gregory Lestrade was no more. Just a few days after his father's passing, Greg had conceded and allowed Sally to bring him the coronations and had organised it in one night. He hated being the centre of attention almost as much as he hated public speaking, however the new-king knew that it was what his father would have wanted for him. Just a few days after that, the whole kingdom had come together to bury the former king in the crypt of the Lestrade family.
Since the burial, Greg had refused to entertain any of his court; closing the doors of the castle and locking himself away to mourn. Two weeks had passed, and Greg had no intention of opening those doors for a while now, not until his time ran out.
And it was about to.
Thirty six days after the king's passing, Sally woke Greg from his sleep in the Prince's chambers since he hadn't the courage to move into his father's old room just yet, and gave him the news that he had not wanted to hear.
"Sir, your betrothed is less than two hours ride away."
In the haze of losing his father, Greg had completely forgotten that he was to be married by the end of the week. French customs dictated that the betrothed lived in the home of the more powerful partner in the relationship just a few days before the wedding so they were able to get to know each other. It was just tradition. And Greg had completely forgotten about it.
When he was called to finally open the doors to the castle for the first time in just over a month, Greg was dressed in some of his best clothes - a white blouse and black cotton trousers - and had his hair combed properly rather than its normal state of knotted frustration. He felt nothing like himself, and absolutely nothing like a king should. Since his father had died, Greg had not once felt like a king, and yet he was one. It made no sense.
It wasn't until Greg saw the cart being pulled up the path to the castle that he became truly nervous. In the days leading up to this, he had been too busy to even remember that this was coming up, yet now his nerves had punched him in the face.
The English prince stepped out of the cart and instantly bowed down to Greg, his head bowed as he introduced himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. I thank you for allowing me to spend time in your castle and welcoming me into your kingdom."
Greg exchanged a glance with Sally, confused as to why someone would bow down to him when his father was in the castle, far more powerful than himself. Then it hit him and Greg had to steel himself so he didn't stagger backwards and make a fool out of himself. "I... ah... Thank you for coming. One of my servants will take your bags. Please, ah, follow me inside."