Chapter Text
The ballroom of the royal palace shimmered with candlelight. Laughter and music still swirled through the air, violins, the soft hum of conversation, the distant clink of crystal.
Marxander stood near one of the tall windows, his hand wrapped lightly around a glass of champagne he’d barely touched. His gaze followed Richard across the room, standing near a cluster of nobles, his posture impeccable as ever, but his expression starting to wane at the edges.
It had been a long day. The ceremony at the cathedral, the procession through the capital, the formal dinner, the toasts, the endless congratulations. The queen herself had smiled on them both, radiant and approving. It was everything a wedding should be, but for Richard, who thrived on order and not on courtly chatter, the celebration was clearly reaching its limit.
Marxander caught his eye from across the room, a silent, knowing look.
When the final waltz ended, Marxander approached him, bowing his head slightly as though speaking to a prince.
“Baron Danair,” he said softly, amusement flickering in his tone, “you look as though you’ve fought a war tonight.”
Richard exhaled, smiling faintly. “A nonviolent one, at least. But I think I’ve shaken more hands in the past six hours than in my entire career.”
Marxander chuckled quietly, his voice barely above the hum of the room. “You’ve done admirably. Truly. But I do believe it’s time we… retire.”
The paladin glanced at him, his tired expression softening. “Are you certain you’re ready to leave the queen’s reception early?”
The tiefling's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “She’ll forgive us.”
Richard laughed quietly, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. “You make everything sound so easy.”
“That’s my talent,” Marxander replied, offering his hand. “Come, my dear. You deserve to rest.”
They left quietly, with the queen’s gentle nod of permission, and made their way through the candlelit corridors to the private chambers prepared for them — silks, roses, soft moonlight filtering through the high windows. When the door closed behind them, the air seemed to shift, quieter, more intimate. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of them.
Marxander turned to face him. For the first time that day, his carefully poised expression faltered, replaced by something softer, vulnerable. “You’ve been patient with all this,” he said gently. “The pomp, the guests… me.”
Richard’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. “You? There’s nothing to be patient about.”
Marxander led the way to their private chambers, his arm still looped through Richard’s. He was radiant, his golden eyes soft in the candlelight, bright and alive. Richard, however, had gone silent.
As Marxander pushed open the door, revealing a room prepared in elegance, moonlight spilling over fine linens, fresh flowers perfuming the air, Richard hesitated on the threshold.
Marxander turned back at once. “Richard?”
The paladin’s voice was low. “It’s nothing. I, I just… it has been a long time.”
Marxander’s expression softened. “Since you’ve been with someone.”
Richard met his eyes, almost sheepishly. “Yes. Almost a decade. My marriage was arranged, and my late husband was ill more often than not. I… I fear I may have forgotten how to be intimate with someone.”
Marxander stepped closer, closing the distance between them until their foreheads nearly touched. “Then let me remind you,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting for this night for years, Richard and nothing can spoil it. I know it because I trust you.”
He took Richard’s trembling hand and guided it to his heart. The steady rhythm pulsed beneath his skin. “You don’t need to be anyone’s protector tonight. Just yourself. Just mine.” For a long moment, they stood like that, the soldier and the sorcerer, the sun and the moon.
Then Richard drew in a slow breath and nodded. “All right,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Show me how to please you.”
Marxander’s answering smile was luminous. “Gladly.”
He reached up, brushing his fingers through Richard’s hair, and kissed him, gently at first, as though to prove there was nothing to fear. Richard’s tension melted under the touch; the long years of restraint and solitude began to fall away.
Outside, the night was calm and silver. Inside, their voices softened to murmurs, not words of instruction or prayer, but of affection, reassurance, and quiet laughter. When the candles burned low, the only light left in the room was the one that shimmered from the open window, moonlight on gold armor, on polished horns, on two men finally finding peace in each other’s arms.