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Hubert went to the back of the bar in the basement of Barona Castle and got himself another drink. Even the bartender had left with someone that Hubert presumed was her sweetheart, and Hubert was just not in the mood.
This was the one place that was not decorated with hearts and flowers for the early-spring-love ritual in Windor, the day when smitten would-be lovers approached the one who had caught their eye with candies and sweet words. If Hubert wanted to find someone, he would have gone to one of the other places in Barona.
Instead, he poured himself a third beer – just two into the evening and he already felt like he was probably going to fall asleep – and leaned against the top of the bar, imagining himself to be a bartender. He’d seen Malik tend the bar at Bar Tactics briefly, and again at Asbel and Cheria’s wedding, and Hubert wondered how he would do at the job.
Just as he was pondering picking up an empty glass and trying to flip it in his hand the way he’d seen Malik do, he saw a shadow pass over the door.
“Well this is unexpected,” said Richard, King of Windor.
“I could say the same,” Hubert said. “All done with your kingly duties for the day?”
Richard let out a dramatic sigh and walked up to the bar. “No, but I could not take another supposed diplomatic meeting with a lady offering me pretty eyes and hopeful words.”
Hubert laughed. “They’re still after you, are they?” He picked up the glass and did not flip it even though he wanted to. He gestured to Richard instead. “Want something?”
“Are you the bartender all of a sudden?”
Hubert shrugged. “She left with her sweetheart. I was by myself until you showed up, so I suppose that makes me the bartender.”
Richard chuckled and sat down on one of the chairs, leaning his elbows on the bar. “Yeah, that dark one, from Wallbridge.”
Hubert found the one that Richard meant and poured him a glass. He tried to angle the glass the way he’d seen other bartenders do it, but the foam still built up on top. “So none of the pretty ladies caught your eye?” he asked, handing Richard the glass.
Richard shook his head. “I’m not so much, er, into ladies, as they say.” He took a sip. “No one caught your eye either?”
A knot of anxiety tangled itself in Hubert’s gut. He had to know, right? “I’m in a similar boat, one might say,” he confessed to Richard. Not the same boat because how could it be? But at least they were on the same ocean.
“Ah,” Richard said simply. He held out his glass. “A toast to two eligible bachelors, looking for eligible bachelors?”
Hubert didn’t know what to say to that, so he lifted his glass and nodded.
They both took their drinks, and Hubert found himself curious. Perhaps if he hadn’t been two and a half drinks into the evening, he would have held back, but that was not the case. “I have to admit, I thought you and Asbel had something going for a while there.”
Richard laughed, a small bitter noise. “Don’t tell him that I admitted it, but we did,” he said. “But, you know, Cheria. Babies. Mothers.”
“Mothers,” Hubert agreed. “He does love Cheria, and the idea of babies.”
“I suppose my situation does not help matters,” Richard added. “I’m doomed to find a woman who can stand me long enough to produce an heir. I don’t suppose Asbel wanted to share.”
Hubert’s discomfort increased. He took another drink, trying hard not to think about Asbel and Richard, or Asbel and Cheria, or babies.
“I suppose your mother is moving on to you, now?” Richard said.
Hubert shook his head. “She gave me up to another family, but still she persists. She doesn’t realize how hard it is.”
“I bet if she knew her son was in bed with the King she’d have different ideas.”
Hubert almost choked on his drink.
“What?” Richard looked at him, and Hubert could have sworn that facial expression was full of false innocence.
“You mean,” Hubert stammered, discomfort at an all-time high, “you and Asbel, right?”
Richard looked casual and shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps,” he said. “But perhaps her other son, an eligible bachelor himself with quite a list of credentials, and a handsome face.”
“I’m no substitute for Asbel,” Hubert said before he even realized words were coming out of his mouth.
“Of course not,” Richard said. “I’ve known you long enough. But I never thought you’d be in here by yourself on a night like this. Surely you have lovers waiting for you back in Strahta?”
Hubert felt the knot of anxiety twist. Silence fell between them, uncomfortable. His mind raced.
“Did I say something insensitive?” Richard said to break the silence.
“No,” Hubert said. “But, surely, you understand, it’s not exactly… well, it’s not the easiest thing to find someone who isn’t surprised, or who isn’t taking advantage.”
Richard paused. “Surprised?”
Hubert’s heart matched the speed of his mind. Had Richard forgotten? He’d known Richard since they were kids, since…
“Oh,” Hubert said out loud, coming to a realization. “You only met me after…”
“After what?”
And perhaps, Richard hadn’t noticed, at least not the way Malik had. They’d spent comparatively little time together, and Hubert was more used to traveling on the road and taking care by the time Richard joined their group.
Hubert sighed. Well, he was in it now. Still, if Richard was going to be suggestive at him, he might as well know. “You only met me after,” he said carefully, considering his words, “I became Hubert.”
Hubert watched RIchard’s face. He waited for the inevitable disgust, or the awkwardness. But Richard just paused, and even as a sort of realization washed across his face, he simply… considered .
“Ah,” he finally said. “I understand.”
Hubert waited for the blow, the turn away, the rejection.
But then Richard said, “You’ve always been Hubert to me. I had no idea you’d been anyone else.”
Something tightened itself in Hubert’s chest.
Richard seemed to consider him again. “Is that why they sent you away to Strahta?”
Hubert closed his eyes. He thought it was obvious, that everyone knew, and it was hard to explain this out loud. But at the same time, he realized, he’d convinced Richard. Richard saw him as Hubert .
“Yes,” Hubert answered. “Aston Lhant said that if I was going to be a boy, then I was going to have to be sent away like second sons were in the family.” He took a breath. “But my mother, she arranged it somehow, that it was Strahta and in Yu Liberte where they had doctors who specialized in people like me.”
Richard seemed to be putting the pieces together.
“I have to say,” Richard said, “I did learn as a boy that Lhant had a son and a daughter. I never put it together. I thought they were referring to Sophie, the adopted daughter, and just failed to mention you. That was bad enough.”
“I think,” Hubert said with less care than he would have if he hadn’t had so much to drink, “that Aston Lhant saw his daughter as a marriage potential for you, and was deeply disappointed that it could not work out.”
“Couldn’t it?” Richard barked out a laugh, a real laugh that surprised Hubert. He’d so rarely heard Richard express a genuine emotion. “Wouldn’t he be pleased at this outcome, then?”
“What outcome is that, exactly?” Hubert asked.
“That here I am, propositioning you, and it would have never happened the other way around.”
Hubert grinned, and then realized what Richard had said.
“Did you just say you are… propositioning me?”
“Well, yes,” Richard said.
“I figured once you knew…” Hubert trailed off.
Richard was looking at him. “Why? The proposition still stands. I just have some new information.”
Hubert was frozen. He hadn’t thought – especially not tonight – that someone he’d known for a large part of his life, someone who was handsome and important, would be able to consider him a viable interest.
Hubert knew that Richard didn’t do anything halfway. He’d seen Richard’s playing at being the Mask of Barona. He’d seen Richard in his most vulnerable moment, with Lambda controlling his body.
Maybe Richard needed someone who had seen the unspoken parts of himself as well.
“Hubert Oswell,” Richard said with a slightly elevated air of formality. “Would you favor me with a walk in the rose garden?”
Hubert’s mind slowly turned over the situation: Richard was asking him on a date. On Valentine’s Day. To the rose garden.
His heart fluttered.
Slightly drunk and a little bit overwhelmed, Hubert said, “Yes.”
Hubert pressed the white and pink rose between the pages of his heaviest tome on military tactics. The scent permeated through the room, but he didn’t want to forget.
Richard had reached behind Hubert’s shoulder and plucked a single nearly-blooming rose from the trellis that they stood under. How he had severed the thorny stem with just his fingernail, Hubert did not know.
Richard had smelled the rose, and then looked at Hubert. “Would you favor me with another walk when you next visit Barona?”
Hubert had nodded, as Richard pressed a kiss to the petals, then placed it in the pocket of Hubert’s jacket just above his heart. “Or if you happen to come to Yu Liberte,” Hubert had heard himself saying, “I could take you to the Presidential Fountains.”
“Hm,” Richard had said, “I may have to concoct a reason to visit my colleague, President Paradine.”
Hubert had read about this in books, but he’d never thought it could possibly happen to him. Even when he was just a child, reading the Best Princess Stories, envisioning himself in the prince’s shoes, courting the princess–
He could never have imagined that he would be courted, or that he would feel so giddy about it that the mere scent of a rose would distract him from his duties.
Hubert put the book down flat on his desk then left his office and crossed the grounds of the Presidential Palace. He had to meet with the Barona engineers to discuss the latest bridge project that would connect their lands, but before he did, Hubert poked his head into the President’s office.
“What can I do for you, Hubert?” President Paradine said, waving him inside.
Hubert stepped in the door and stood in a formal military stance. He clasped his hands in front of his body, and said, “With your permission, sir, after the State Dinner tonight, I’d like to give King Richard of Windor a tour of the fountains.”
“Is this for a military discussion?” President Paradine asked him.
“No sir,” Hubert said, and he felt himself blushing. “It is, er, somewhat more personal.”
There was a long moment, and Hubert looked up to notice the President half-standing, studying him. A grin crossed his face, and suddenly he wasn’t the President but Hubert’s god-father and mentor. Dylan’s face lit up. “It’s a date is it?”
Hubert blushed harder. “Sir,” he said simply.
“Well then by all means, I’ll have the area emptied of staff with only guards to protect your guest.” The President waved at his aide who was standing in the corner. “Excuse me, I have a few preparations to make.”
Later that night, Hubert noted that someone had positioned beautiful blooming water lilies and hyacinths at the edge of the most beautiful pond at the fountain, to cluster right next to a bench that was the perfect size for two people to sit just close enough.
And someone had left a single blanket draped over the bench to ward off the chill of the night in Yu Liberte.
“This is just beautiful,” Richard said, standing at the edge of the pond, watching the flowers float on its surface. “I don’t remember the flowers being here the last time I came through.”
Hubert tried not to bite his lip. “They like to do some new things every now and again,” he said.
“And such a lovely cloudless night,” Richard added. “It really is so different here in the desert.”
Hubert nodded. “If you’d like to sit,” he said, gesturing at the bench, “the fountains will reset to refresh their motors, and the patterns at startup are quite relaxing to watch.”
“That sounds promising, even if the night is getting a bit chilly.”
Hubert gestured at the bench. “Perhaps we could sit, and you can use this blanket to ward off the worst of the cold.”
Richard grinned at him and asked slyly, “Did you plan this?”
“I cannot take credit, although I wish I had,” Hubert admitted. “I may still be learning a thing or two in this department.”
Richard laughed lightly and swept his cape aside to sit on the bench. He picked up the blanket from the back and held it on his lap. “Would you join me, Hubert?” he asked, sliding to the edge of the seat.
This bench was very cleverly constructed. It was big enough to hold two adults, but just barely, giving plenty of excuses for arms or knees to touch. Hubert took advantage of this as he sat down, letting his knee rest against Richard’s.
“Not two years ago,” Richard said, draping the blanket across his knees, letting the end fall over Hubert’s leg, “you would have put your blade through my heart.”
“I would have regretted it,” Hubert said. He adjusted the end of the blanket, moving a slight bit closer to Richard in the process. “Though, if we’re being honest, I probably would have shot you instead.”
Richard chuckled. “I am thankful to you, and to everyone, for not doing so.”
Hubert felt Richard shift, and saw the blanket move slightly.
“I’m glad Asbel was so adamant,” Hubert said. “He knew you were there. He believed in you.”
Richard looked uncomfortable. “Did you?” he asked.
Hubert exhaled. “I believed Asbel. I remembered you from when we were children, but I didn’t know what he knew.”
“At that time, I wished you all would have killed me,” Richard admitted.
The lights of the fountains blinked off, and the water cascaded to a stop, leaving light tinkling sounds as the last drops fell to the pools.
“And yet,” Hubert said simply.
Hubert felt the warmth of Richard’s hand touch his thigh. “And yet,” Richard echoed.
Hubert reached over and placed his hand on Richard’s. Richard shifted, letting their fingers intertwine. The motors whirred and the fountains started back up, sending a cascade of water into the air. The lights blinked on again in a pattern, illuminating the streams of water like ribbons.
They watched, letting the sound of the water flow around them, their hands clasped under the blanket, until the lights went out again.
Rumors had spread in Yu Liberte during the endless six weeks since their last meeting; it was probably from staff who had been at the fountains and been at the President’s beck and call. Hubert had felt the eyes on him and increased attention every time he reported for duty, and he saw a column in the city gossip pages about the Windor King and his “mysterious liaison”.
In Barona, Richard remained in control, and Hubert was barely noticed in the palace.
Although Hubert was only tangentially involved in the discussions of exploration voyages to the far continent, but had found reasons to accompany the Strahta delegation purely for the chance to see Richard. He was interested in exploration, but mostly to explore the ships and boats; he feigned interest in military contributions in the form of outposts in the exploration route just to have a chance to accompany the delegation to Windor.
The diplomatic dinner seemed interminably long – and Hubert couldn’t say whether that was due to the particularly boring small talk of the people around him or because Richard just sat there looking handsome at the head of the table. He was too far for Hubert to hear or interact with, but squarely within his vision to distract him throughout every other conversation that people tried to have with him. To Hubert’s relief afterwards, Richard summoned him to a meeting room for a matter dealing with Lhant, which Hubert suspected was a ruse. He was correct in his suspicions, and found himself in a quiet, small meeting room full of books and scrolls.
“Hubert,” Richard said as soon as the door was closed. “I saw you down the table and could hardly wait to see you alone.”
“I felt the same way,” Hubert said. “You look magnificent.”
Richard smiled, looking down at the dark blue vest embroidered with green thread in an intricate scrolling pattern. His green cape matched the threads impeccably. “I knew you were coming,” he said by way of explanation.
“I could hardly stand not seeing you for this long,” Hubert said. He reached forward and boldly took Richard’s hands in his own. Richard’s hands were warm, like he’d been wearing gloves that he just took off.
“I must say,” Richard said in a low voice, “I am feeling very serious about my attraction to you.”
“I was just about to remark on the lengths you went to in order to get me alone,” Hubert teased, trying to avoid paying any attention whatsoever to the feelings of anxiety that were growing inside his chest.
Richard released Hubert’s left hand, and put his newly-freed right hand on Hubert’s cheek. “All through the meetings and dinner, I confess wanting nothing more than to kiss you.”
Hubert’s heart fluttered. “Well,” he managed to say, “here’s your chance.”
Richard leaned forward, and Hubert noticed how close they were. He could feel Richard’s warmth in the cool air of this castle meeting room. “May I?” Richard whispered.
“Yes,” Hubert said, remembering the rose, their clasped hands, his own yearning alone in his quarters.
Afterwards, all Hubert wanted to do was kiss Richard again.
At the next Windor grand ball, Richard sat down next to Hubert with a flourish. “I want nothing but to dance with you,” he admitted under his breath, disguising his words with a cough.
Hubert resisted grinning in response. “Richard, how would that go over with your advisors?”
Richard just smiled. He was so handsome in his full regalia, with the gold braids and the emerald jewels, nevermind the gold and silver crown that sat atop his head. The dancers on the floor behind him swayed and twirled, the music floating pleasantly in the hall.
Hubert had worn his finest military dress clothes, pressed twice by the staff before the ball. He’d added every embellishment that he was allowed, including the white half-cape that he wore over his left shoulder.
“Right now they think you are just talking to a friend,” Hubert whispered. “But if we went out there…”
“They’ll know,” Richard said. “It’s alright if you’re not ready.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Hubert said.
Richard smiled, a soft expression that Hubert knew was just for him. “Later, then,” he said carefully before standing and leaving Hubert wishing for the freedom to show his emotions in such a public place.
Instead, they met and kissed in every secret place they could find after supposedly chance meetings. Hubert had a hard time dealing with his growing desire and preoccupation with the notion of taking Richard’s clothes off and the combined terror at the idea of Richard taking Hubert’s clothes off.
One morning in Richard’s rooms at the guest palace in Yu Liberte, they started to get handsy. Richard touched Hubert’s legs and thighs, even fingers his hip. Hubert found his hands straying to Richard’s chest, ribs, shoulders–
Hubert was thankful that he’d worn the dark blue trousers of his uniform this time; the white would have made it very obvious how aroused he was.
“Richard,” Hubert breathed as Richard kissed him on the underside of his chin. “This is so much.”
“It is,” Richard agreed. “Your scent is intoxicating.”
Hubert was very self-conscious about his scent.
“I want to explore your whole body,” Richard whispered against Hubert’s neck.
“I’m not sure you’ll like what you’ll find when you do that,” Hubert admitted.
“I am,” Richard countered. “I can’t get you off of my mind.”
“Are you sure?” Hubert felt the knot of anxiety as Richard’s hand strayed to his shoulder then his collarbone, toying at the clasp of his shirt.
“What makes you think I wouldn’t be?” Richard said, pulling back carefully.
Hubert stammered. “I just– I have– Underneath, I–”
“I want,” Richard said carefully, “to find out more about how you are. And I like you, Hubert.”
Hubert felt himself trembling.
Richard gave Hubert space, leaning back and resting his arms on the back of the couch that took up almost the entire wall of this room. Hubert took a breath.
“How can I help, Hubert?” Richard said gently, taking Hubert’s hand in his own and twining their fingers together.
Hubert shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“Alright,” Richard said, squeezing Hubert’s hand. “I’ll wait for you to tell me when you’re ready. I hope we can still kiss, and spend time together.”
Hubert nodded, his voice still feeling choked. He couldn’t find any words to say in these most private of moments. He had so much practice navigating his professional life and his identity that he knew the moves to make and the words to say. Here, alone and vulnerable with Richard, his playbook was empty.
Hubert found himself giving Richard strategies to actually execute his lofty ideas. When Richard wanted to set up a fishery off of a newly-discovered island, Hubert found himself carefully going through a plan for boats to travel there with licenses to prevent over-fishing of the tasty new species that were found in the waters. He and Richard stayed up late into the night discussing how to recruit carpenters to build docks and shelters and hire engineers to build fish processing infrastructure on the island so a case of bad weather would not sink boats and destroy a harvest.
They were a good team, and as Hubert made a list of suggested engineers that he knew from Strahta to hire, Richard stood behind him to look at the list and said to him, “You would make a wonderful partner in this.” Then he kissed Hubert on the side of the neck.
Hubert laughed even as a shiver went down his spine. “A business partner?”
“No,” Richard said, shaking his head. “A prince-consort.”
Hubert felt the heat flush to his cheeks. “That would imply us getting married, wouldn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Richard said, putting his arms around Hubert’s waist. “If you were interested, of course.”
An image flashed into Hubert’s mind of Richard in his finery with the white, green, and gold of the royal house of Windor, and him – in what?
“You would immediately have a war for succession,” Hubert pointed out, finding himself going to a familiar topic to avoid thinking about something unknown.
“So what?” Richard said. “There’s going to be one anyway at this rate. Besides, maybe we can adopt. Or pass it to a landed nephew.”
Hubert suppressed an eyeroll at the idea of one of Asbel’s children inheriting the throne of Windor.
But then Hubert turned his head and saw that Richard looked nervous. He was biting his lip in a way that Hubert hadn’t seen him do before.
“Richard, you’re serious, and here I am deflecting,” Hubert said as he turned around in Richard’s arms, trying to soften his tone. “Is that… really what you want?”
He felt Richard’s fingers clench on his waist. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.”
“I mean, isn’t this all hypothetical?” Hubert said carefully. “You can’t really marry a man, can you?”
“Of course I can,” Richard said. “I’m the King, and if I want to marry the person that I love, then I can do it.”
Hubert’s heart raced.
Richard leaned in, touching his head against Hubert’s. “I said it,” Richard whispered. “I used to see a friend. I used to see redemption. Now, here, I see love.”
“Richard,” Hubert whispered. “Really?”
“Really.” Richard stepped back and took his hand. “I will do it formally to make certain parties happy, but I must know if you are interested, Hubert Oswell, in being my Prince-Consort.”
Hubert’s entire body vibrated. He never thought this could happen to him. He certainly never thought he’d have anything resembling a chance.
Hubert exhaled, his lungs feeling shaky. He leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead against Richard’s again. “I am,” he said. “I want nothing more.” He kissed Richard for the thousandth, millionth time. “But – I need to be sure that you are certain this is what you want.”
Richard was smiling; Hubert had never seen such joy. Richard kissed him again and again, and then drew him down to the divan in the corner of the room. Richard wove his fingers through Hubert’s hair, stroking his scalp down to the base of his neck in a way that made Hubert shiver. Hubert found himself sitting on Richard’s lap, straddling his thighs, feeling heady with kisses and touches and the phrase prince-consort wandering around in the back of his mind.
Richard was toying with the button at the top of Hubert’s shirt. “Is it alright?” Richard whispered.
The button slipped open, Richard’s thin, delicate fingers opening the collar of Hubert’s shirt. He touched Hubert’s collarbone gently. “May I undo another?” he asked between kisses.
Hubert murmured “yes” against Richard’s cheek. He felt the second button come loose, and Richard’s fingertips trail down his chest.
He felt Richard pause. “What’s this?” Richard asked.
Hubert looked down, seeing what Richard was referring to. “It’s called a binder,” Hubert said.
“The name seems explanatory enough,” Richard said, running his fingertips along the edge. “Do you wear this all the time?”
“Not all the time,” Hubert explained. “In formal uniform, whenever I appear in public.”
Richard seemed curious, looking at the garment, touching the straps and the fabric. Hubert felt self-conscious, but Richard leaned forward and kissed him on the collarbone, right near one of the straps. Hubert shivered in response.
“Is this okay?” Richard asked, tucking his fingers under the strap to touch Hubert’s shoulder.
“It’s a little tight when you do that,” Hubert admitted. “But overall, yes, this is more than okay.”
Richard smiled at him and kissed the underside of Hubert’s chin. Hubert gladly moved his fingers around to Richard’s chest, finding the clasp at the top of his shirt that held his ostentatious ruffle together. He distracted himself from Richard’s wandering hands by fixating on undoing the clasp of the ruffle.
But Richard’s hand was on his chest, over his binder. He moved his hand down, undoing another button on Hubert’s shirt. Hubert finally unhooked the clasp of the ruffle and Richard’s shirt parted, revealing the top of his chest underneath.
Hubert saw Richard’s perfect chest – no binder, no compression – and a wave of anxiety hit him hard in the gut. He felt his body tremble.
“Sorry,” Richard said, his hand stilling. “Are you okay?”
Hubert took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m feeling a little bit anxious,” he admitted.
“Me too,” Richard said back. “I don’t want to mess this up for you.”
A laugh burst from Hubert’s body, followed by a tear in each eye. “ You don’t want to mess this up?” He wiped the tears away as quickly as he could. “You’re so perfect. You’re handsome and incredible. I feel like I’m just nothing compared to you.”
Richard sat back, his shirt disheveled, his hair messy where Hubert’s hands had just been in it. “Thank you,” he said. “I feel the same way when I look at you.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Hubert said, feeling the defensiveness in his voice from his very core.
“I’m not,” Richard replied. Then he stopped and took a breath. “I’m sorry, let me try again. I apologize that I sounded that way.” He put his hands on Hubert’s thighs, reminding Hubert of just how much he wanted Richard. “I really meant what I said. You’re so smart and handsome and brave. I saw you face down the end of the world with no fear. And now that I know you, I envy how you really know who you are. Who am I? A boy thrust into kingship, playing at being a hero, body and mind still riddled with remnants of Lambda, I can’t even figure out what is me and what is vestiges of him.”
Hubert wiped away another tear that threatened to fall from his left eye. He looked at Richard, his head hanging, unsure and vulnerable.
Hubert remembered being young and alone in Strahta, and the kind Doctor Bowers who had never mistaken Hubert’s pronouns, who had held his hand and said that it was perfectly normal to feel the way that he did. She had called him brave, too.
Hubert remembered her tone, and when he reached out to take Richard’s hand, he said, “All of that is you.” He squeezed Richard’s hand. “You’re the bravest person I know, Richard, to face what you did and come out of it where you are.”
Richard sobbed.
“We both have some dysphoria, don’t we?” Hubert said.
“I suppose we do,” Richard whispered.
“Maybe,” Hubert said, “that means we can understand each other, a little more than other people. Maybe that’s what makes this right .”
Richard looked like he was going to collapse in a sobbing fit. Putting away his anxiety, Hubert leaned forward and put his arms around Richard, letting Richard bury his face in Hubert’s shoulder.
Compared to having half of your soul ripped away in front of a group of people who were trying to kill you, Hubert thought, his worries were hardly problems at all.
“There is some politics about the term marriage and if it can be formally entered into the records,” Richard said, running his thumb along Hubert’s knuckle where their hands were clasped together.
“What’s the issue?” Hubert asked, sitting back against the cushioned back seat of the sofa.
Richard let out a long exhale. “In the law, apparently, it says that a royal marriage entails the conference of titles for the purposes of creating a line of succession.”
Hubert raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
“It seems,” Richard said, looking up at the corner of the room as if the meeting of paisley wallpaper would have counsel for him, “that they take it to mean that to marry means that the spouse receives a title related to royalty, and the purpose of that title is to be able to pass a different title along to a child of the marriage as part of a line of succession.”
Hubert felt his heart slow down, a sinking feeling in his chest and stomach.
“They say that there is no such thing as a marriage for a royal unless it is for this transfer of nobility,” Richard continued.
Hubert mulled over the words. “So you can’t get married without your spouse getting a title, and the only reason for the spouse to get that title is so they can pass a title on to a future baby?”
Richard shook his head and said “Yes,” at the same time.
“But there have been royal marriages that did not produce an heir,” Hubert said, “notably your great-grand-uncle.”
“That’s what I pointed out to them, and they insisted that at least there was reasonable belief in a possibility of an heir.” Richard rolled his eyes. “Basically they are covering up their ridiculous constrictions of royal marriage with a forced emphasis on producing offspring.”
Hubert looked down at his lap, finding his eyes focusing on his hand clasped with Richard’s. As little as he’d thought about this – having previously figured there was no chance that he’d ever find someone to love, much less someone to contemplate marriage with – there was a basic truth that he had never had to voice out loud before and would change the entire situation.
He was terrified of the potential outcomes of saying these words, or of changing the way that everyone viewed him.
But… was Richard worth it? Was this feeling of love, this hope for a future, this incredible opportunity – was it worth it?
Hubert exhaled. “Richard,” he said carefully. “Do you really think they are just presenting this children and heir thing as a cover-up for some kind of predisposition to mixed-sex marriages?”
Richard turned to look at him and raised his eyebrows. “No. I really think they are preoccupied with succession. Why?”
Hubert breathed in slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Because like your great-grand-uncle, it’s not unreasonable, it’s not impossible, that our marriage could result in an offspring.”
The pause stretched between them. Hubert felt acutely uncomfortable, but he could see that Richard was looking back at the corner of the room, as he did when he processed new information.
Richard finally said, “I believe that I had made some incorrect assumptions, then.”
Hubert shook his head carefully. “I’ve been taking the pills, as you’ve seen, but anatomically it’s… well, it’s possible, if I stop taking the pills, my doctor said.”
“Is that something you’d ever want?” Richard squeezed Hubert’s hand.
Hubert had no idea how to answer that question, so he shrugged his shoulders lightly. “I haven’t thought of it.” He looked over at Richard and found a small smile. “I hadn’t thought of many of these things before you entered my life.”
“But,” Richard said, his voice soft around the edges in a way that made Hubert a little bit dizzy, “would you want me to tell these people about that at all?”
Hubert let the smile broaden. “Are you asking if I’d mind being a source of eternal gossip in order to be legally allowed to marry you?”
“I could bid them to silence, but you know how effective that would be,” Richard said.
“Well, the last time these people tried to conspire against you, you hooked up with an extra-terrestrial god-creature and almost destroyed the planet,” Hubert said. “We could just casually remind them of that.”
Richard smirked. “Maybe after all that, they’d be happy that your secret is the biggest news they’d have to deal with.” He squeezed Hubert’s hand. “It probably also helps that you are one of the Great Heroes of that time.”
“So romantic,” Hubert agreed, “falling in love with the brother of the hero who would have given his life for you.”
“Who, I might add, rejected me,” Richard said in a dramatic voice, “giving me space to see the person I was destined for all along.”
“Maybe this story will be more interesting to them than my anatomy,” Hubert said, although he knew it wouldn’t be.
Richard picked up Hubert’s hand and kissed the backs of his knuckles. “You want me to tell the advisors this?” he asked.
Hubert took a long breath, in and then out. There was only one answer, and he knew it. “Yes,” he said. “It’s worth it, for you.”
At the winter holiday ball, Hubert’s eyes were only for Richard – dressed in gold and green, his fine velvet cloak draping around his shoulder like a whisper. The world seemed to slow down to a crawl as Richard approached him.
“I want nothing more than to dance with you,” Richard said, offering his hand to Hubert.
Hubert knew all eyes were on him, but he kept his eyes focused on Richard’s. He took Richard’s hand.
Hubert let his own half-cape fall over his shoulder as he stood up, accepting Richard’s invitation to dance. He had to admit that he’d obsessed over this moment when people would see him and whisper, this man was Richard’s rumored love interest, this blue haired man from Strahta.
And then they’d dig and they’d find out his past.
But for now, there was just him and Richard and the waltz, their feet moving in time, changing leaders every refrain. And when the music stopped and Richard bowed, Hubert didn’t let go of his hands. He just grinned and bowed and held onto Richard for another dance, then another, and another, for the rest of their lives.