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“That’s two stunts now that you’ve pulled.”
Bored, Yami looks up from where he’s seated in a flimsy chair, hands bound by magic. Right on time, he thinks. He had been very close to breaking out of the bonds, restraining order be damned.
“Yeah, so what?”
A hand comes down on his head in a chop.
“Ow! What the hell is that for?!”
“You’ve been reckless, Yami!” Fuegoleon scolds in a tone he’s all too familiar with. “Would it kill you to demonstrate some self-restraint as a squad captain?”
Yami glares at him as his head throbs. “Try being asked to marry against your will!”
It’s the wrong choice of words, he realises a split second later. Because that’s exactly what had happened to him.
Fuegoleon rounds the admittedly nice holding room they’ve put him in for now, turning once to look out the window. The flaming arm flickers in the silence, crackling like a hearth.
“Oh,” Yami realises with a slow-growing grin. “Don’t tell me. The kid peed his pants, again.”
Fuegoleon looks at him with a calmer expression, the corners of his lips twitching. “Chairman Kira was kind enough to bring the message to me himself.”
“It probably doesn’t change the fact you wanted to grill him on a stick.”
“How crude of you,” he huffs so morally that it has Yami rolling his eyes. It’s why he gets surprised when Fuegoleon doesn’t end there.
“But not entirely…untrue.”
Yami allows him a moment. He’s had plenty of hours to think from when they brought him to the Capital after decking a parliamentarian in the face. Fuegoleon probably rushed here from the Crimson Lion Headquarters — a stone's throw away — as soon as he was notified. The result of his own reflection, after having had time to calm down, is storming the Courthouse. Calmly, of course.
He finds Fuegoleon studying him as well.
“So you’ve agreed?”
“Not like I have much of a choice,” Yami grunts. “And after all the bullshit they spouted about improving foreign relations for the kingdom’s protection, refusing will just make me look like a bad guy.”
Fuegoleon, surprisingly, nods in agreement. “It’s a tactic. They’re trying to restrain you after the debacle at the Courthouse.”
He doesn’t sound like he’s scolding Yami for that particular incident even though he had been forced to step in. Only pointing it out as fact.
“This is probably some power play, ‘cause they know I can do that again,” Yami grumbles, then eyes him warily. “You’re taking this…well.”
Fuegoleon’s expression straightens into something smooth when he says, “I was taught to stay calm in all situations, expected or unexpected. And arranged marriage is unfortunately a situation us royals are always prepared for.”
“Uh-huh. Not freaky at all.”
Fuegoleon disappears out of his line of sight, and soon, he feels the binds around his wrists come undone.
“I coulda done that.” Yami points out, petulant.
The royal claps him on the shoulder with the flaming arm.
“You could have, but we’ve got no time to waste. We have a wedding to plan.”
__________
The first order of business is to, of course, tell everybody.
“Congratulations on your marriage!” Julius beams.
”Oi, old man, don’t tell me you didn’t know!”
Fuegoleon shoots him a warning glare for his tone. He expertly ignores it.
Julius’ smile becomes nervous. “I tried to talk him out of it, y’know. The Magic Parliament was quite insistent. Because I’m in this state, there wasn’t much else I could do.”
The Wizard King flaps his tiny arms and too-large robe as emphasis. Yami has half a mind to throttle the chin-mole bastard, right now.
Fuegoleon clears his throat beside him.
“Thank you, Lord Julius, for your well-wishes.”
Julius glances back-and-forth between them and goes silent.
“Hey, old man, don’t get all sentimental now. It’s just marriage.” Yami warns, watching his expression warily. Should he expect his mentor to burst into tears?
“I know. But you’ve both grown so much.” Julius says softly, voice overcome with fondness.
He beckons the two captains closer and really, it should have been laughable, their towering figures bent slightly before the tiny Wizard King as he pats their cheeks. But Yami doesn’t laugh. He’s finding it hard to swallow.
Julius looks them in the eye and opens his mouth.
“Take care of each other. Especially now when everything is uncertain.”
Yami cups his small hand in a rare reciprocation of his gesture.
“Don’t worry about us, Sir Julius. You know us — we’ll have each other’s backs no matter what.”
Fuegoleon nods, solemn.
Julius smiles, eyes curving. “I can’t wait for the wedding.”
__________
The next ones in line are Fuegoleon’s fiery siblings.
“Are you nervous?” Fuegoleon asks, eyeing the way he’s chewing on his cigarette.
“You know how your sister’s like, shut up.” Yami snaps.
“She’ll only be laughing at us, Yami.”
“And then she’ll kill me.”
“Mereoleona’s not like that,” Fuegoleon assures, then raises his eyebrows. “If it’s some reassurance, I won’t allow her to.”
He says it like he still doesn’t take Yami’s concern seriously. A retort dies in his throat as, just on time, the fiery Vermillion siblings come ‘round the corner wearing completely different expressions.
“I hear my brother’s getting married!” Mereoleona cackles, high to the heavens, wiping tears from her eyes. “The situations you get yourself into, Fuego.”
“I didn’t get myself into anything,” Fuegoleon glares in a rare display of middle-sibling annoyance.
She pulls him into a hug anyway which looks more like a suffocating cradle. “Guess congratulations are in order. I’d never thought I’d see the day, my little brother Fuego, actually married!”
“Enough.”
“Big brother, congratulations on your marriage!” The little lion proclaims, hands on his hips.
Fuegoleon smiles warm at his younger brother. Their conversation is obscured from view as Mereoleona slaps an arm over Yami’s shoulder.
“Good luck, idiot. He’s a handful.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“And,” She leans in, unsmiling. “One toe out of line, I’ll beat you up so bad, not even your ashes will be left.”
Sweating and terrified for his life, Yami can only nod. She slaps him on the shoulder one more time and steps away. Leo is looking at him up and down, scrutinising, and gives a single nod.
“You’ll do.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
”My big brother only deserves the best!” Leo boasts. “Someone strong and passionate, who can match his fire!”
Your siblings are weird as hell, Yami deadpans, meeting Fuegoleon’s gaze. At least he has the decency to look vaguely embarrassed.
Mereoleona draws the both of them in for a sideways hug, one in each arm.
“Use protection, alright?” She whispers with a grin.
“Mereo!” Fuegoleon hisses.
By the time they’ve escaped her clutches, Yami feels like he’s been tossed into a tornado and turned around a few times. Ears pink, Fuegoleon avoids his gaze and mutters an apology.
__________
The tornado isn’t over yet. Their next stop is the Black Bulls’ base. Which is, of course, in utter and complete disarray.
“Captain, you’re back!” Luck greets cheerily, perched on an overturned table.
“Captain!!! And Captain Fuegoleon!!!” Asta yells at a higher volume than necessary.
Vanessa, of course, is drunk. “Caaaptain, what’s the news?”
“I’ll tell you brats if you come here and shut up.”
They line up orderly, on their knees.
“Alright,” Yami exhales a cloud of smoke. “I’m getting married to this guy. Say congratulations.”
For a moment, no one says anything.
Then, the bubble bursts.
“Waaaah, you’re so macho, Captain!” Magna sobs, passionate, into his arm.
“C-C-C-Congratulations, C-Captain!” Grey says, muffled between her fingers.
Asta is beaming. Beside him, Noelle looks like her soul’s ascending to the heavens. Her delinquent captain getting married to one of her uptight royal cousins must not have been on her latest bingo card.
“Congratulations, Captain Yami and Captain Fuegoleon! I hope your marriage will be happy!”
Nero nods, agreeing. Noelle’s still nonverbal.
“Congratulations, Captains!” Luck chirps. “Your flaming arm’s cool! Can you fight me, pretty please?”
Fuegoleon opens his mouth and Yami, being the responsible captain he is, jumps in.
“No fighting,” Yami orders, grabbing him by the scruff and away from Fuegoleon. Luck pouts as he’s deposited squarely beside Magna.
Vanessa giggles. “Congratulations, Captains. I knew I didn’t have a chance.”
Gauche has his face buried in a picture. “Congratulations, or whatever.”
“Oi, read the room, will ya?”
“A royal, huh? Didn’t know that was your type,” Zora says, slouched as per usual.
Finral looks at them, pale. “Captain…married…before me….”
“Heh.” Yami smirks a little at him, goading.
Gordon mutters something beneath his breath.
“Thanks for the wishes,” Yami says. “Now clean this mess up, or I’ll kill ya.”
__________
The wedding planning isn’t much at all. They only need to make a few decisions and the dedicated team will do the rest. Power of money, he supposes.
With the marriage forced upon them by the higher-ups, they at least had the decency to pay for everything. Yami’s sorely tempted to make the most unreasonable demands just to see the looks on their faces; at the same time, he just wants the whole goddamn thing to be over.
“Grand music when you enter—“
“No.” Yami says.
“Then, gold outfits—“
“No.” Fuegoleon interrupts.
In the end, it becomes a simplified version of your typical royal ceremony. They end up with the captains’ dress outfits for the entire thing. The whole noble realm doesn’t even need to be invited for this one.
Then, they do their fittings together. Yami’s sure he has the captain’s dress outfit somewhere in his room, shoved deep into a forgotten drawer collecting dust, but they wouldn’t hear it.
“…After that, we walk back down the aisle,” Fuegoleon says.
Yami grunts, shoots a glare at the sweating attendant who’s pulled the string too tight. Frankly, he feels like one of those dolls the kids play with, and it’s entirely unpleasant. If this is what nobles have to go through all the time, he counts himself lucky.
“So that’s it? Good.”
“We’ll eat after that, and mingle with guests. Traditionally, newlyweds will also spend the night together to consummate the marriage.”
“Is that why your sister said to use protection?”
“She was being ridiculous,” Fuegoleon huffs. Yami doesn’t miss the way his ears pink, again. “Just spending the night together is fine. We don’t even have to talk.”
Yami raises his eyebrows. “You really don’t wanna sleep with me, huh. Am I not your type?”
“Very funny.”
Fuegoleon gets dressed first, the seamstresses having had his measurements prior, and he ends up with a more stylised version of the outfit he wears. It hugs his waist nicely with a sash and the collar peeks out where it’s usually covered by the crimson robe. They have switched out his purple earrings with golden ones.
“What?”
Yami blinks at Fuegoleon’s look. He didn’t realise he’d been staring.
“Nothin’. I’ve just never seen you in gold, before.”
He gets a one-shoulder shrug in return. “My father discouraged it and said it’s an excessive sign of wealth.”
Fuegoleon’s father must have been an even more stickler for the rules, he realises. Anyway, if you’ve got the money, why not spend it? As noble as such a sentiment sounds, Yami makes a face.
“You’re a royal, aren’tcha?”
“I’m a Magic Knight, first and foremost,” Fuegoleon tilts his head and the golden earrings sway gently along to the movement. It’s goddamn hypnotising, for some reason. “Being a royal is second.”
Yami tears his gaze away to his face.
“Riight. If you don’t like the gold earrings, you can give it to me. I’ll make sure to put them to good use.” He makes a gesture like rolling dice.
The corners of Fuegoleon’s lips twitch upward into a smile.
In the end, the final design they have for Yami isn’t completely different. It’s more black cloth, sleek, with hints of dark purple. Unfortunately the Black Bull robe is akin to the boring, standard robe of the Magic Knights, he notes with a grumble. At least they’re wise enough not to give him a collar; it’ll only end up on the floor before they reach the altar.
Yami slings the robe over one shoulder to retain some of its personality. The end result becomes something he can be satisfied with.
This time, Fuegoleon’s the one who’s staring.
“Pretty good, huh?” Yami smirks.
“Your robe’s unfastened.” Fuegoleon says mildly.
As soon as he says it, the robe drops into a heap.
__________
They’ll also be given rings. Rings.
“You look surprised,” Fuegoleon notes.
They’re currently with the jeweller, who’s measuring their ring fingers with a string. More specifically, the ring finger on their left hands.
“Clover customs. You guys never fail to surprise me.”
“What do you do, then?” Yami glances over at him and Fuegoleon tilts his head. “To signify your marriage.”
“Something different,” Yami replies vaguely. “We gotta wear these rings for the rest of our lives?”
“Not all the time; it serves as a symbol for marriage to others. It can also be worn around the neck, which is standard for most Magic Knights as a safety precaution.”
“Huh.”
“…You don’t have to — to wear it, I mean.”
Fuegoleon’s voice suddenly goes quiet. Yami turns to look at him and finds him studying the string around his finger closely.
Afterward, when they leave, Yami manages to catch the jeweller.
“Hey. Make his ring out of gold, will ya?”
__________
Finally, the day of the ceremony.
It’s a…whirlwind.
Dressed in their ceremonial outfits, they say their vows before a priest. Yami’s unafraid to admit he wasn’t listening, most of the time. He steals a glance sideways and finds Fuegoleon doing the exact opposite, head bowed slightly in respect, golden earrings stark against his skin. A small braid hangs by his ear as part of the hairstyle he’s wearing for today.
The rings they’re presented with are simple gold and silver bands. The gold for Fuegoleon, and the silver for Yami.
Then they walk back down the aisle, after which they mingle with the guests, limited to the people they care about.
The captains are there, of course, traditions and whatnot. They’re happy, for the most part, offering some well wishes as best as they can. But Yami’s long resigned to the fact that he’s surrounded by a bunch of weirdos. Case-in-point Charlotte, who barely gets a word out before abruptly running away.
“What’s with her?”
Fuegoleon shoots him an unimpressed look.
“Huh? What?”
He only shakes his head before their dinner is interrupted by another captain.
“Congratulations on your…marriage, Vermillion.”
Nozel’s voice is thin and his expression mild.
Fuegoleon regards him carefully, like he hadn’t expected him to come at all.
“Thank you, Nozel.”
“Hold on,” Yami interrupts, because he loves stirring the pot. “What about me?”
Nozel’s gaze turns downright icy.
“And to you too, foreigner.”
Yami can’t help what follows. He laughs aloud, stretching an arm comfortably across the back of Fuegoleon’s chair. Nozel follows the movement and his eye twitches at their closeness.
“Don’t be so upset. I’m part of the family now.”
“That’s enough,” Fuegoleon interrupts before the entire wedding hall is reduced into rubble. “Nozel, really — I appreciate your presence here.”
Some part of the silver royal’s expression softens, loosening around his mouth.
“For old times’ sake,” Nozel says. “I hope marriage won’t dull your skills.”
Fuegoleon grins, sharp. “You’ve forgotten who I am.”
Nozel’s gaze ices over again and when he speaks, his voice is smooth.
“And should there be any…marital trouble, I’d be happy to beat this man to a pulp.”
“I’m right here, ya know.” Yami drawls.
The Silver Eagles’ captain shoots him one last glare before gliding away.
“They’re all giving the shovel talk as if you can’t do it yourself.”
Fuegoleon stifles a laugh and leans back into Yami’s arm. The warmth of it has Yami turning back to him, lips curling upward in a smile.
“Quite right.”
__________
Afterward, they get a room together.
The room is huge. It’s basically three rooms, side-by-side, with two bedrooms and a sitting area in between. Yami’s bone-tired but he grabs the bottle of alcohol on the table while Fuegoleon goes to shower.
Yami’s out on the balcony, cradling a shot glass, bathing in the light of the moon overhead. This bottle of alcohol tastes lighter than usual, maybe a variant that’s meant for nights like this. It reminds him of a taste long forgotten — sake, and its flowery undertones on his tongue.
The alcohol settles something strange in his stomach. He rubs a thumb over the label.
“Hey,” Yami says as he hears soft footsteps behind him. “Is this wine another custom of yours? ”
“This? No. I guess it’s just something they picked.”
Yami files the brand name away in his head as Fuegoleon settles beside him, and with him notes of lavender that seep into the air. Fresh out of the bath, the royal captain has donned a white, linen top and grey pants. His flaming arm is gone, leaving the sleeve of his right hand to flap in the breeze.
Yami offers him another shot glass, filled, while definitely not staring at him. It’s just that he’s never seen Fuegoleon this…informal, before.
Out here, it’s quiet. The hustle and bustle of the Capital has gone to sleep. Silver light bathes the balcony and the buildings below.
“Long day.”
Fuegoleon grunts in affirmation and tips the glass back.
“Today has been tiring.”
“We’re lucky we’ve got alcohol.”
Fuegoleon snorts. His gaze becomes drawn elsewhere.
“The ring. Did you pick gold for me?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t sound angry, at least. Just wondering.
Yami rubs the back of his neck nonchalantly.
“Well, I thought you looked better in gold.”
Fuegoleon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t turn to look, either.
“Look, if you’re upset, I’m sorry.” Yami utters, low and genuine.
“No, I’m not,” Fuegoleon says immediately. “It’s…I’m not used to wearing gold, that’s all.”
“If you don’t like it, we can always switch. Gold sells for more yul, anyway.”
Grinning, he wriggles his left hand for emphasis, the silver band gleaming.
Fuegoleon laughs, eyes curving.
“No, thank you. I like this one.”
Yami ignores how the fondness in his voice has warmth blooming in his chest.
They end up sitting there in comfortable silence. Yami nearly dozes off too, still in his ceremonial outfit, until he registers Fuegoleon’s deep voice speaking to him.
“You said that the customs for your homeland to signify a marriage is different.”
Yami yawns, shifts in his chair.
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“Basically, the bride and groom exchange three cups of sake. It’s a different type of alcohol.”
“And how do you do it?”
“Well, first, the sake is poured into the first cup. Then, you sip at it three times, like this.” Yami takes three sips and instinctively hands it over.
Oh.
He’s suddenly aware of this. Fuegoleon in white, him in black. But Fuegoleon doesn’t notice, as he takes the glass from his fingers. A more likely reason is that he asked on purpose. Not that Yami’s complaining.
Fuegoleon hands the glass back over after taking three sips.
“Then, the second cup,” He says, voice faraway to his own ears as he picks up a different shot glass. “You do the same. Take three sips.”
There’s a loud beating in Yami’s ears as Fuegoleon takes the offered glass and sips at it three times. He hands it back. Yami takes the three sips.
“And then?” Fuegoleon asks, low. His violet eyes are brighter than the moon above.
“…The third cup.”
Yami sips three times, holding his gaze. Passes the glass over. Fuegoleon does the same.
“There you go,” Yami rumbles. “We’re married now. Again.”
“Divorce will be difficult.” Fuegoleon says, warm and teasing.
Yami huffs out a laugh, soft and slightly stilted. Fuegoleon stands, tells him not to spend the night drinking, and bids him goodnight.