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The day that Kaveh's father died, his world shifted on its axis.
He couldn't remember what exactly he was doing when he got the news.
All he remembered was that he was in the gardens. He was probably sketching the palace, trying to recreate the gardens on paper, and prepare to hand off the notes to the gardeners and architects that littered the court grounds. He sketched a small part of it. He never completed the full thing. Not when he had been interrupted by his bodyguard.
Dehya shifted on one foot and then the other.
"Kaveh," she started, and paused. She started again. "Your Royal Highness."
She meant business.
He looked at her and smiled, unknowing of what fate had in store for him, and went, "what's wrong?"
The minute the words came out of her, he felt a part of him fracture and split into the abyss.
He remembered running. Dehya chased him through the halls as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He shoved past servants, courtiers, advisors, ministers, and he barrelled into his father's bedroom, where he saw his mother slumped over his body and crying with all the force of a tempest. She heard him enter, Dehya not far behind, and her eyes watered more.
"Kaveh," she whispered, and he fell directly into her arms.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, on his aching knees, held in her so fragile arms. She rambled endlessly about his final moments. How he smiled at her, told her that he loved her, and let whatever malaise settled in him take him away from her. From them. He didn't process everything. Dehya did her best to shield him and his mother, but people were curious, people were mourning like them.
Mourning like them, what a joke.
No one knew his father the way he and his mother did.
All they saw was the image of a great king gone too soon.
The people lost a king.
He lost his father. His mother lost her husband.
When things finally grew too overwhelming, people were staring through the door despite Dehya's efforts, he got up from his mother's arms, picked up a vase, and threw it at the wall. It shattered and sent everyone scattering and yelling in alarm. Dehya stood, unfazed, before she met Kaveh's eyes, and left too.
"I'll leave you alone," she said. "I'm so sorry."
She shut the door and kept watch outside.
It was him, his mother, and the rapidly cooling body of his father in bed for a long, long time.
*****
Kaveh leaned against the door of the council room.
"He has to be married," said an advisor. "You and him both."
"Why?" His mother had gotten colder. She was never the same after the funeral. "Kaveh has the right to marry whomever he wants. He is a Prince of House Kshahrewar. Do you know how many people would fight for his hand in marriage? For mine?"
"He is the Prince," another advisor reminded. "The only Prince. It's best you rewed as fast as possible, so that once His Royal Highness is married, you'll be able to have another heir to the throne. You are the head of this bloodline, ma'am. The King, Kusanali protect him, wasn't apart of the dynasty."
"You want me to marry my son off like cattle."
"Ma'am, that's not what I — "
"My son!" Something broke. "The only piece of my husband left!"
"Ma'am," someone else cut in, "do you know the alliances and power we could gain through His Royal Highness?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You're right that people would fight for his hand. Mostly because of House Kshahrewar's great status, but because of his intelligence and beauty. You know what beauty will do to people."
"It was great beauties in the past that have brought whole countries down," another agreed.
The same advisor hummed. "Exactly. If we played into the hearts of his suitors and possible matches with his beauty, we would be able to snag a match worthy of the Prince. Whether it grows into a mutual love is unimportant. He is a Prince and it is his duty to marry."
The room went silent. Kaveh held his breath.
With shuffling of paper and a long sigh, his mother asked, "is there a list?"
"Of suitors?"
"Yes."
"Right here, ma'am. If you see here.."
Kaveh ran off before he could listen anymore.
*****
The gardens were in full bloom already.
Padisarahs swayed in the breeze, lined up in decorated and beautifully crafted flowerbeds, starkly colored against his black clothes. Even after the funeral, Kaveh never stopped wearing mourning attire, refusing to return to his brighter outfits after his father's death. His mother was the same. While the court moved on and the world kept spinning, they remained in the past, clutching each other in the deepest throes of their shared grief.
The only mark of color were the Padisarahs in his hair. His father used to pick them and weave flower crowns for he and his mother. He taught Kaveh how to make them, so he made his own, and often did it to keep his hands moving and mind active. Sometimes he sketched, but he never finished a full piece anymore. His architectural blueprints were left to gather dust.
Dehya appeared and offered him a smile. He barely returned it.
"What're you doing?" She stood behind him and the bench, leaning over it.
"Watching the Padisarahs," he said. "They're beautiful."
"I've always wanted to see one up close. Back home, they would probably die after a day in the hot sun. All the sand would've killed 'em."
He snorted. "They're stronger than that."
"You think?"
"The desert isn't so inhospitable as to kill them that fast. If you found some viable soil, kept them inside, and watered them consistently, they would survive. Flowers can't grow in sand anyway."
"You haven't seen the shit that grew in my village."
"Enlighten me."
"Trees bigger than the palace!" She made a gesture to mimic height. "And tumbleweeds! From nowhere!"
"What — they appeared without warning?"
"I think the tumbleweeds are bushes from Gandharva. They got dried up on the way and rolled into the desert."
"I don't know if that's possible."
"Anything's possible. Nature's weird like that."
"I would love to see Gandharva again." He sighed. "I miss Tighnari."
"He's a busy man, you know? His wedding's a big thing."
Kaveh grimaced. Dehya noticed and guessed immediately.
"Arranged marriage business, huh?"
"How'd you know?"
"You looked like someone skewered you."
His nose scrunched up. "I did?"
"You're doing it again!"
"Just — !" He made a wide gesture. "It bothers me! It bothers me, Dehya."
"What about it?"
Everything about it. Everything about it bothered him. The court played right into his mother's grief. Spun romantic tales of the alliances and power they could gain from a marriage out of his control. They were trying to push her and him out of the grief they had been clinging onto without a care for why they had been grieving for longer than necessary. Of course they grieved for 'longer than necessary'.
You didn't just move on from the death of the most important person in your life.
At the thought of his father, his chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to vomit.
Dehya squeezed his shoulder.
"Hey. If you were going to marry someone, who'd be your type?"
"I don't know. Someone..smart, maybe."
"Not smarter than you?"
"More so, I guess. I want someone who can challenge me. Surprise me! Charm me!"
"So another prince?"
"He can't be just a prince. " He huffed. "I'd rather die than grow old without the best of the best."
Dehya smiled. "Okay, got you, boss. What else about this mystery suitor?"
Kaveh stood up and began to pace around.
"I want them to push me to the limit. I don't want someone who's happy to sit and do nothing. A hard worker! Not too ambitious, but someone who can see the beauty in work and success! I don't want a suitor who thinks that he doesn't have to work for my trust. I want.."
He stopped.
"Want..?" She pressed.
He sighed.
"I want something like what my parents had."
Her gaze softened. "I get it."
"I won't get it if I'm going to be arranged to marry someone." He turned back to her. "So, I at least want someone who'll give me my space."
"What about the.." she waved her hand. "..wedding night? Marital duties?"
"If I must, I'll lie back and think of Kshahrewar."
She grimaced and quietly hissed.
"Oh, that is not healthy."
"If it's for my country, my House, my family, I'd do anything, Dehya. If I have to suffer for them, I would. I don't care as long as they get to be happy, with or without me. My father sacrificed so much for us. It's time that I do the same."
"Even if it meant giving up yourself?"
"Absolutely." Kaveh firmly nodded. He would've stripped himself down to the bones if it meant that everything would be okay. If his country wanted it and his mother willed it, he would marry for the glory of Kshahrewar, and he would bear a fraction of the suffering his father surely had to endure. "I'll do it with a smile."
*****
A row of portraits stood before him. Behind them were ambassadors of different kingdoms and countries. Some had even come from outside Sumeru — places like Inazuma and Mondstadt!
Kaveh already rotated through the first and second round of portraits that he was offered, with the ambassadors leaving in disappointment at his refusal. He sat next to his mother on plush green divans, littered with blankets and pillows, vivid and bright against their mourning wear. The parlor had a few guards and servants standing to the side, at attention. Dehya was closer, inspecting the portraits with her sharp eye.
"I wasn't aware that we had people waiting for me outside of Sumeru," he said, resting his head against his palm, bored.
"Me either," his mother winced. "I'm..amazed."
His mother had already settled on her match. Now it was his turn.
They both fell silent as ambassadors went down the line, explaining their choices.
The last one of the current row was an ambassador from the House of Haravatat. Unveiling the portrait, the ambassador stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness." He held his hand out towards the portrait. "I present to you, Crown Prince Alhaitham of Haravatat."
He had to have been around his age, if not a bit younger. The portrait highlighted the turquoise of his eyes, how the shadows cast by the lighting dared to encroach into their brightness. He wore Haravatat regalia, colored in black, with some gold here and there, especially in the large earpieces he wore. Those weren't apart of the outfit — Kaveh supposed that the portrait had to be done, but he still wore what he wanted anyway. That bit of carelessness admittedly charmed him. At least he had some personality compared to the duds he'd been cycling through.
"He's sharp and one of the most brilliant minds in all of Sumeru." The ambassador said. "If you married him, Your Royal Highness, you'd have a throne of your own by his side. He said himself that he would not take a consort, but an equal. You'd be the king alongside him."
"Haravatat is one hell of a House," Dehya muttered. "But I don't know about that guy."
The ambassador looked, frankly, offended, but Kaveh looked back at her.
"Your sixth sense is acting up?"
"I think Tighnari's fiance knows him. He said he's pretty difficult."
"Difficult how?"
"I'd ask you not to speak ill of the Crown Prince," the ambassador chided.
"I don't know. His fiance's cool with him, but he's different from you. I think he said that he didn't like going to parties or interacting with people much."
"Huh." Kaveh settled back down onto the divan. "But he's looking for a marriage?"
For some reason, a spark of hope started in the pit of his stomach. He could deal with an introvert, that wasn't something horrible. Crown Prince Alhaitham was an introvert that also wanted an equal. He'd have a throne of his own. He would do exactly as he set out to do when he accepted the idea of an arranged marriage by the court. He glanced over at his mother. She was focused on some part of the wall, lost in her own head.
Colder, melancholic, and still stuck in her despair — if he had to pick a person, he'd have to pick one now, and spare her another day and another reminder of what she was losing.
He straightened his back and kept his head high. He was a Prince of Kshahrewar. He would not settle for less.
"I'll marry the Crown Prince." He said. "You've won me over."
The ambassador perked up. "You won't regret it, Your Royal Highness. The Crown Prince is as amiable as they come. I'm sure that he'll please you."
With his choice made, everyone else left the parlor. Dehya glanced at him before she ushered the rest of the servants and guards out to give him and his mother privacy.
His mother glanced at him.
"You don't have to do this," she reached out to touch his cheek. Tears threatened to pour down her cheeks. There was no doubt that she saw his father in him, and that pained her. Kaveh forced a smile onto his face and hugged his mother tightly.
"I know," he replied. "But I will."
*****
For the first time in months, Kaveh was out of his mourning attire.
He still kept them in one of his many suitcases in the back of the carriage. It was on the suggestion of the royal advisors that he not wear black when he left the country. He would go to the Crown Prince of House Haravatat as the Light of Kshahrewar. Fabrics of sparkling white and silver clothed his figure, with a matching golden crown, earrings, and bracelets.
"Archons." He clutched his necklace. "I'm nervous."
"Why?" Dehya crossed one leg over the other. "You're going to blow everyone away."
"I — I don't know. I don't know how the Crown Prince might take me."
"He'll love you, Kaveh. Everyone does."
"You said he was difficult."
"Okay, I never said he was difficult." She threw her hands up in self defense. "I said that Tighnari's fiance said he was difficult. I also said that they were friends. He's just reclusive."
"He's going to hate me then."
"Come on."
"He will!"
"He won't. You're overthinking it."
Kaveh fidgeted with his necklace.
He missed his father. He missed him so much. If he were there, if he saw him before he left for marriage, he would reassure him and tell him that everything would be okay. His father wasn't here anymore. He was gone. Dead. The carriage rattled slightly as it drove on a steady pace towards his new home and his stomach churned with it. Some part of him wanted to tell everyone to turn back around and head home, but he knew that he couldn't do that. So much was riding on the marriage succeeding. Everyone relied on him.
How could he destroy their hopes like that?
Today was the day. Today was a new beginning. He could do it. He had no choice.
A pair of gates opened, and he was there.
People filled the streets in crowds upon crowds. They cheered, screamed, applauded, they spread the noise far and wide across the city. It only served to overwhelm him. He clutched the necklace so tightly that he briefly wondered how he wasn't suffocating with it on. As they neared the palace ahead, panic rendered his mind fuzzy.
Dehya grabbed his hands.
"Kaveh," she pulled him out of his head. "Don't fall apart now."
"I'm trying not to."
"Breathe. It's going to be fine."
"What if it isn't?" He hated how delicate he sounded.
"You're the Prince of Kshahrewar. You've got everything at your fingertips. You're hot as sin." He laughed at that. "If the Crown Prince doesn't count his blessings at the sight of you, he's blind, and he's out of his damn mind. You've got this. You're going to take this place by storm. Got it?"
He nodded. "Got it. Thank you, Dehya."
"That's what I want to hear." She looked pleased with herself. The carriage stopped. "It's showtime!"
The carriage door opened.
With a heavy heart, Kaveh stepped out, and saw him. The Crown Prince, Alhaitham.
He looked exactly as his portrait showed, unique earpieces too. He was grateful for that, but he also thought that the portrait didn't do him enough justice. But he was still a stranger. A stranger who promised a throne and space.
Dehya stood behind him, one hand on her sword at her hip.
All he had to do was walk to the Crown Prince. Once he did, once he crossed that threshold, he would be of Haravatat. His world would change. He almost wanted to back out and throw himself back into the carriage. Regardless, he held his head high, and faced his fate with all the dignity he could afford.
Whether Crown Prince Alhaitham was friend or enemy, he would determine it for himself.