Chapter Text
“Oh em gee, I have been waiting to come to this place—if Riddle-kun hadn't blown his lid on Heartslabyul for losing the top dorm rank for academics and made us all crank out all those supplementary study sessions, I would've totes been here sooner!”
The excitable ginger-haired boy darts around the quaint ice cream parlor, snapping photos at a mile a minute like a checker-printed tornado. “This retro theme is supes adorbs! They even have an actual jukebox, how cool is that?” He pauses momentarily to flash his imposing company a gleeful wave. “I owe you one for coming with me, Malleus-kun!”
He whirls to the fae’s side, reaching to pull him close with an arm, and flashing a peace sign against his cheek as he snaps a filtered selfie. He releases Malleus with a chuckle and raises a disarming hand before the fae could make any comment. “Not to worry, Malleus-kun, your princely privacy is Cay-kun’s best interest. This one's just for me!”
“...I did not come for the photo opportunity, Diamond,” Malleus replies, unfazed by the beacon of energy practically glowing beside him. In fact, so contagious was Cater’s enthusiasm, that it veritably eclipsed the shadow of intimidation that hovered over the poor heads of the parlor’s patrons and employees: a classic reaction to the presence of Malleus Draconia.
“DW, Cay-kun always keeps his promises.” Cater laughs, hoisting two coupons from his pocket. “All free dessert coupons will be presented as tribute~” He offers the coupons to Malleus, grinning at the way the fae’s eyes light up.
“Very well, I shall accept,” Malleus replies, retrieving the coupons from his hands and striding regally to the counter to place his order. Behind him, Cater's gaze softens ever so faintly with equal parts amusement and endearment.
“...isn't that the Malleus Draconia…?”
“What's he doing here?”
Hardly an unusual susurration of whispers that tended to accompany the fae prince wherever he went, but the moment Cater’s ears catch wind of the snapping of cameras, his head whips around, his eyes narrowing at the parlor’s patrons.
Clearing his throat, he strides to the closest offender and taps him on the shoulder. “‘Scuse me, I'm pretty sure someone could def report this as an invasion of privacy, but you didn't mean it like that, right?” he chirps, swiping the patron’s phone from his hands and swiftly deleting the images before dropping the device back into his grasp. “Don't worry about a thing, mob-kun, Cay-kun’s got your back~”
The ordeal repeats at least three more times, and Cater finds himself wondering if it would have been simpler to deal with it via Split Card, but before he can reach for his magical pen, the deep voice calling his name draws his attention back to the counter.
Malleus approaches him with two cones in hand, one laden with a generous double scoop of strawberry ice cream garnished with an eye-catching arrangement of candied fruit and a frosted biscuit, and the other a sparing scoop of plain vanilla. Cater grins, sidling to the fae and eyeing his desserts of choice.
In a split-second, his phone appears in his hands as he snaps photo after photo of the ice cream while the fae walks calmly to an unoccupied table in the corner of the parlor. Cater hums, pulling back a chair with his foot and plopping himself down. “#sweetsforthesweet #dessertdive #sageislandtopeats~ aaaand post!”
As he lowers his phone, he finds Malleus proffering the smaller vanilla cone towards him. The fae nods for him to take the modest dessert. “It would be a pity for you to not have anything to eat after coming all the way here,” Malleus says. “The employee recommended black pepper ice cream as a less sweet alternative to classic flavours, so I took the liberty of procuring some for you.”
“Aww, you remembered?” Cater hums, a fond flush colouring his cheeks as he happily accepts the small offering. “But you didn't have to, you know, I gave you both coupons so you could come back for another if you wanted.”
A faint smile creeps across Malleus’ lips as he rests an arm on the tabletop. “Is it not more enjoyable to share one's experiences with others, Diamond? Still, if it is not to your liking, then you needn't force yourself.”
“Ugh, swoon~ go around dropping lines like that and everyone'd be eating out of your hand, Malleus-kun,” Cater teases with a dramatic mock-faint. “Well then, Cay-kun won't be a spoilsport and refuse after you went through all that trouble!” Despite his enthusiastic words, he gingerly nibbles at the ice cream.
His eyes brighten with surprise as he stares down at the cone. “Oh, wow, it's more floral than sugary, and that pepper really gives it a nice kick! I could get used to this,” he exclaims, taking a larger mouthful.
Before him, Malleus chuckles softly behind his own dessert, his gaze welling with warmth. Occupied by their little moment, they fail to notice a subtle click from across the parlor.
♦♦♦♦
An envelope with a broken seal and an unfolded letter sit ominously on Malleus’ study desk as he glares at the smaller fae hovering upside-down around his room, overcome by the throes of pealing laughter.
“What is the meaning of this, Lilia?” Malleus demands, his palm slamming against the elegantly scripted letter.
Wiping away tears of mirth, Lilia hovers by his shoulder, peering down at the offending correspondence with a grin so wide it was fit to split his face in two. “Ahahaha—oh dear, it seems like—kheeheehee—Her Majesty has caught wind of her grandson’s—hahaha—trysts,” he lilts through poorly suppressed fits of laughter.
“Trysts? I suggest you watch your words, Lilia. There has been no such thing.” Malleus crosses his arms over his chest. “I do not understand my grandmother's intentions. She has much time ahead of her—surely there is no need to do this with so little warning.”
Calming himself enough to land on the floor, Lilia snickers. “All fae know better than to question Draconian authority, Malleus. Regardless of your status, she is still the Queen Regnant of Briar Valley—naturally we are bound to her whims.”
Glancing at the letter, Malleus exhales wearily. “So it is. Very well—I will find out for myself what schemes Grandmother is playing this time.” He sits down at his desk, materializing a crisp leaf of paper as he reaches for his magical pen.
Behind him, Lilia sways his weight from one leg to another, a gleeful glint in his eyes. “Well then, I'll be off to let the Headmage know that you'll be taking an…extended leave of absence,” he chirps. “Of course I'll be going with you, or Her Majesty will have my head, and I do value my adorable noggin far too much to disobey~”
As he disappears, Malleus shuts the door in his wake with a wave of his hand before turning his attention to the blank paper upon his desk. He raises his pen, his lips pursed into a taut frown.
To Her Esteemed Majesty, Queen Maleficia Draconia of Briar Valley,
Dear Grandmother,
I hope my correspondence finds you well. As I will see you shortly after this letter reaches you, I shall dispense with the formalities for now. We will have much to discuss upon my arrival. Until then, it is my hope that you will ponder my questions and provide me with answers when I see you—I am certain that you must have anticipated this.
Firstly, why have you chosen to enact the Betrothal Tournament, which has not been invoked for generations? To my knowledge, Briar Valley is hardly in a state of political unrest that would require it. Secondly, why did you fail to consult me on a matter so pertinent to myself? I do not doubt you had your reasons, and while I acknowledge that I am unversed in the domain of nuptial matters, I can be reasoned with. Surely you do not perceive your grandson to be so disagreeable as to rebel against your decisions unless coerced?
My apologies for my undignified tone. It perturbs me to admit that your sudden announcement has caught me unawares. Nevertheless, I ask that you will overlook it this time—surely you understand my feelings.
I look forward to seeing you, Grandmother, and Seven willing, to hearing your answers.
Sincerely,
Your Grandson, Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley
With a flourish, Malleus pockets his magical pen. He neatly folds the letter in half before sweeping it up between his index and middle fingers. A stream of green flame incinerates the letter in his grasp, dissipating the paper in a matter of seconds and sending it on its way to its royal recipient.
With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, his gaze flickering back to his grandmother's letter. Of all the things, betrothal? And what's more, the Betrothal Tournament, of all the outrageous methods? Indeed, what could she have been thinking?
♦♦♦♦
“Uh, Trey-kun?”
“Yeah, Cater?”
“I'm…not reading this wrong, am I?”
“…Nope.”
“So then…”
“Seems like it.”
Cater flops onto Trey’s bed with a bark of nerveless laughter, his forearm shielding his eyes as the letter falls from his incredulous grasp and flutters daintily onto the comforter beside his head as though mocking his predicament. Silence inundates the air for a few excruciating moments before he peeks out from under his arm.
“...you think I could get out of it by taking over everyone’s rose painting schedules for the next month?”
Trey shrugs, sparing the letter a wary side-glance. “Depends on how far you're willing to go to incur the wrath of Briar Valley’s monarch, who, if I might remind you, is allegedly a literal dragon."
With a sigh, Cater nabs the closest clover-shaped pillow and, with the grace and delicacy of a flamingo in the hands of Heartslabyul’s most competitive croquet players, screeches into it. After another few moments of silence, he pulls the cushion away from his face.
“Did everyone somehow forget that the last time we had a wedding-related incident in NRC people almost died?” he bewails.
“Yup. Still remember that slap like it was yesterday,” Trey hums. “But hey, the invitation said that it was a tournament or something, right?”
“That's not the point! We’re still in school! Aren't we like way too young to be getting engaged and stuff?”
Shutting his meticulously organized drawer of toothbrushes, Trey glances back at the distraught boy on his bed. “Uh, Cater?”
“RIP Cater Diamond, first and last of his name, succumbed to the premarital whims of Twisted Wonderland’s oldest active monarchy #flighhigh #gonetoosoon—when I die, delete my internet browser history and memorialize my Magicam account. I'm counting on you, Trey-kun, you're my only hope.”
“Cater.”
Startled by the sudden proximity of his fellow third-year’s voice, Cater pauses his (justified, in his humble, commoner opinion) crashout to stare up at Trey as the boy leans over him to grab the abandoned letter.
Raising it to Cater's face, Trey jabs a finger at the invitation.
This letter may only be opened by the designated recipient under diplomatic liability to the Government of Briar Valley and the Draconia Royal Family. Be advised that, in the event that this letter is opened by any person(s) other than the intended recipient, all involved third parties may be prosecuted for unlawful consumption and disclosure of private correspondence in accordance with the laws of Briar Valley and the authority of the Draconia Royal Family.
Dear Mr. Cater Diamond:
You are cordially invited to participate in the Betrothal Tournament of His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley, by patronage. Your presence will be required for the duration of the tournament. Accommodations will be prepared in advance, and you are permitted to bring only one (1) steward. In the case that you do not have a steward, one shall be provided to you.
We solemnly anticipate your participation.
May the blood of the dragons burn eternal, and the children of the thorns bask in her glory. Night’s blessings be with you.
Signed:
The Royal Betrothal Tournament Officials, stamped with the seal of Her Majesty, Queen Maleficia Draconia of Briar Valley
“It's a tournament,” Trey points out, lowering the letter. “That means you could just go there and lose, doesn't it?”
Bolting upright and nearly headbutting Trey in the process, Cater stares at him, wide-eyed, clutching the clover pillow to his chest.
”...Great Seven, you're a genius, Trey-kun!”