Chapter Text
The duties of the Wind are few,
To cast the ships, at Sea,
Establish March, the Floods escort,
And usher Liberty.
“—complexity combined with a carefully faceted bottle could be the perfect finishing touch,” Eden suggests to the princess as he walks her down the hall. His smile is as wide as it is fake, going through the bride-to-be’s dream for her wedding.
Devin looks jealously over to Michael as he scribbles down her ideas for arrangements and table settings. At least he has a real job to do.
As they enter back into the courtyard, Eden motions for him to set the crate of wines down. He does, setting them softly on the grass.
“Really, there’s no going wrong either way,” Eden sweet talks. “After all, when they see you in that gorgeous dress of yours, they won’t be able to think about which way the filigree twists.”
He winks.
The princess laughs, her eyes cold even as they crinkle, “You’re too kind.”
He nearly rolls his eyes. There’s a reason they’re leaving this part to his twin. Devin hates it. It feels slimy to push the most expensive goods no matter what. He always gives in to haggling, to Eden’s chagrin.
He prefers the arranging of it all, matching colors to fibers to the subtle hue shifts on a rose’s petals. He’s the mastermind behind the arranging of their traveling stall, trying new things at every location.
It’s the only reason he’s here, actually walking inside the palace and not selling and bartering in the square with their cousins.
It doesn’t mean he wants to be here.
He looks at Michael like his brother could save him. Michael looks back apologetically. His hands are full with jotting down notes at a mile a minute, trying to write everything the princess Francesca mentions. He mouths a quick, ‘Sorry.’
He should be. After all, Michael is the reason they’re doing any of this.
A few years ago, Michael decided he wanted to expand his horizons past being the Seabrooke Trading Co.’s bookkeeper. The last time they had stopped in Salode, his brother had managed to meet the crown prince and win his favor. He offered Michael the opportunity of a lifetime: to be his manservant and scribe.
So, with several tender goodbyes Eden pretends he didn’t cry at, the Seabrooke family bid goodbye to one of their own.
When Michael reached out a week ago to request a favor, there was no world in which he’d thought it was to become a wedding planner. As much as he had wanted to see his brother, he wasn’t sure if it was worth this.
“—Devin can help fix the space up, I’m sure,” Eden purrs.
Devin snaps to attention, trying to pretend like he’d been listening. It didn’t work, based on the look his twin gives him from behind the princess’s back. It conveys how perfectly disgusted he is at Devin’s wandering mind.
“Certainly,” He smiles. “Anything you imagine, I can do.”
“Wow,” The princess’s smile isn't comforting. “How thrilling.”
Eden quickly grabs the reins of the conversation again and steers it off to her favorite flowers. Michael scribbles harder. Devin? Devin stands there.
They spend the next twenty minutes talking it over before Devin can’t take it anymore. He meekly asks Francesca where they keep the chamber pots and she laughs at him. His ears are burning when he finally ends up in a bathroom.
He is giddy as he washes his hands with the running water he didn’t have to collect himself. He’s still giddy as he decides to take the long way back, thinking himself a genius the entire way: He gets to see a real life castle from the inside while procrastinating a dreadfully boring conversation.
He’s so giddy, in fact, that he doesn’t notice the man until he hits him.
The man he bumped into has thick, corded muscles beneath his fine clothes. He is also extremely tall, Devin thinks as his eyes trail up and up and up to reach his face.
“Oh my— I’m so sorry,” Devin blubbers.
The man blinks, like he hadn’t even noticed Devin was there.
His eyes are a smooth blue just a shade deeper than his hair. It’s held pretty uselessly back by a yellow bandana, as a large piece flops right over anyway. As the man looks down, Devin notices that his cheeks are a little red from time in the sun.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly. Bashfully, Devin nods.
He looks at Devin for only a few seconds before he says, “You’re new, aren’t you?”
“Uh,” Devin flushes and nods. He runs a hand through his hair. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Servants don’t typically end up in my private chambers,” The man grins.
Devin’s mouth pops open as he looks at the space around him. He brushes past the assumption that he was a servant for the realization that this whole area was for one man. A man who was probably the future King Brandon—of course Devin would, quite literally, run into the crown prince. It’s just his luck.
The room has bookshelves, couches, and carpets just as a common area might have. The door had been left ajar, the same as most in the castle. The room is huge. And there’s a staircase over there.
How could all of this be for one person?
The man laughs at his expression, and Devin feels the embarrassed flush intensify. He looks at his face, screwed up in laughter. His eyes are bright, warm despite their cool hue.
“I’m so sorry,” He splutters, slipping out the door. “I’ll be out of your hair, sir, I promise. I just- uh, need to know how to get out first. Preferably to the courtyard?”
He manages to give him directions simple enough even Devin can follow.
That was embarrassing.
His footsteps echo as he walks down the hallway. The thick stone walls are claustrophobic as he thinks about the conversation he just had with a prince of the land.
Devin hopes he never has to see the man again. He seemed nice enough, but Devin doesn’t think he could handle a reminder of all that embarrassment. He was very pretty and, notably, very engaged. It was best for Devin to stay away, dealing with his fiancée instead.
By the time he finds the courtyard and rejoins the conversation, it’s winding down. Michael eventually has to take his notes back to the future groom, and Devin picks the crate up and bids adieu to his brother as he carts it back toward the pier.
What, exactly, has Michael gotten him into?
As he pushes the door open, Devin’s arms ache in a way he knows will bring screaming pain tomorrow.
The fact that tomorrow will come with unloading more crates from the ship and more wedding conversations is a problem for future Devin.
He gets his first drink and settles at the farthest table, tucked away by the bar. He breathes in and lets himself get lost in the noisy clamor of Captain Morgan’s. It’s something you really can’t get at sea; in this bar, there’s dozens of people living separate, interesting lives from each other. And every single one of them has decided to come together in one place to get away from that.
Devin smiles and lets himself be one of them.
“Mind if I take this seat?” A familiar voice cuts in and is seated before he has time to respond.
Michael smiles at him from across the booth, and it’s all Devin can do to keep from hugging his brother tight like they were kids again. “Michael! You’re here!”
“Devin,” he smiles softly. “I thought I’d find you here; you always managed to sniff out the best places in a port.”
“Maybe I had a feeling my drinking buddy was looking for me,” Devin grins back. He didn’t, but Michael didn’t need to know about his people watching habit.
He missed Michael. He had always assumed they would grow up as close as they were as kids. That they would grow up to run the Seabrooke Trading Company.
The two of them had been closer to twins than Devin was with his actual twin. Eden was his polar opposite, and while they were unstoppable when they teamed up, their personalities made that rare.
But Michael has somehow roped both of them into planning the perfect Diabolus wedding, with perfect confidence in their combined abilities.
“Thanks for doing this, by the way. Your help is taking a huge weight off my shoulders, believe it or not. Francesca can be… a lot.”
Devin had thought she was nice, if a little overbearing. But as he watches him, he notices the stilted way he’s speaking. There’s something he’s not saying.
“Is she a bridezilla?”
Michael makes a face, “Something like that.”
He saw the body of notes Michael was jotting down earlier. He’s not excited to have to transform that into a reality.
“I’d do many things for you, Michael, but I never thought being a wedding planner would be one of them,” Devin confesses.
“Me neither,” His brother flops backward in his seat. “I just wanted to work my way up to a courtier, and now my lord is getting married.”
He looks at Devin with a bone-deep exhaustion, “Do you know what kind of a nightmare scheduling becomes before a wedding? He’s pretty hands-off so you’d think it would be smooth sailing, but no.”
Devin winces, “I can only imagine.”
“Fittings upon fittings, writing and rewriting vows, ugh,” Michael complains. “And I’m the one who needs to pull it all together for him, because god forbid the man pretends he even wants this.”
Whew. Devin blinks. That’s… a lot of baggage. He looks at his older brother, one of his favorite people on the planet, and reaches out. “I know I’m helping plan the decor side, but there has to be more I can do.”
Michael looks at him like he has sprouted a second, or perhaps third, head.
“More?” He seems to have forgotten the meaning of the word. Devin can see his exhausted eyes go watery. “You’re already so busy with the stall, and this is really my whole job—“
“Michael, some part of what you’re doing has to be outside of your job. I’m really not that busy, and Lilly needs more to do anyway, we don’t need her going off and exploring again,” Devin presses. He has never wanted to help anyone more than his poor brother who has always bit off more than he could chew.
Michael’s face goes through a range of emotions in an instant. He settles on hesitant.
“There might be something,” He squeaks out. “I just have to check first. Come back here tomorrow at 8pm?”
Devin nods, and their conversation turns away from the wedding. They sip on their drinks and Devin and Michael spend the rest of the evening blathering on about hectic port towns and princely flubs respectively until they’re tipsy.
Devin loves it more than he can say.
They spend the next day going over the guest list, and Devin quietly marvels over just how many people will be in attendance. Michael is back, taking notes for his prince once more. He has feedback on the flower arrangements from yesterday as well, that Michael delivers for him.
The princess’ eye twitches as hears it, but nods and tells him to tell Brandon she’ll think about adding baby’s breath.
Devin, uncharitably, thinks the prince should tell the princess Francesca himself instead of forcing Michael to be his messenger. His brother is overworked as it is.
But looking at Michael reminds him of their meeting tonight, and if he started talking to him he knows he would try and wheedle an answer out of him.
At first, the waiting is excruciating, until he finally becomes needed in the conversations.
“Devin,” Eden drawls out his name in the way that pushes all his buttons. Based on Eden’s smirk, he did it entirely on purpose. “The lady asked you a question.”
He blinks and turns towards her as fast as possible, “What did you ask, milady?”
“It’s alright, really,” Her smile is sweet and she giggles sheepishly. “I was wondering your thoughts on which of these centerpieces would look best.”
It’s a little startling, having so much sway on such a prestigious event. He wonders if this princess knows he’s just some merchant kid. For a second, he wonders how much Michael told any of the staff—told the future king.
He shoves that thought process away for later. He needs confidence, not imposter syndrome.
The rest of the morning goes by fast. He and Eden have lunch in the town square, right behind the family stall. They plot and plan for tomorrow’s tasks during it, and Devin likes how he has something to share with his twin again.
He spends the afternoon wandering the town and getting his bearings. It’s been a while since they’d last docked here, and he likes getting reacquainted.
Soon enough, he’s walking into Captain Morgan’s for the second time.
He looks around for Michael, to no avail. That is, until he walks out of a room attached to the space behind the bar and waves Devin over. He opens the trapdoor and leads him to a large table with two figures hunched over it.
They both have thick cloaks on, and it’s enough to keep him from recognizing one of the men until it’s too late.
His face burns as Michael sits him down and he sheepishly makes eye contact with a blue haired prince. It’s clearly the same man whose chamber he’d stumbled into yesterday. The same man who nearly bowled Devin over. It really is just his luck.
The man does not seem to share the same embarrassment as he shoots him a wicked grin.
Michael’s voice is soft as he introduces them, “Brandon, Ritchie, this is my brother, Devin. Devin, these are the princes, Brandon and Ritchie.”
Devin blinks as he registers the second man at the table. As elegant as he can make it, Devin stumbles out a small, “Good evening.”
His hair is a white that fades into something darker at the roots, with the same deep blue eyes as his brother. Their faces are nearly identical, but the way they present themselves is entirely different.
“Nice to meet you.” Brandon, despite being crown prince, has a much smaller presence. Devin could bet that, unlike his brother, he could blend into a crowd based on demeanor alone. His hands are wringing themselves with nerves on the table, and his smile towards Devin is small and laced with a layer of stress.
“Found the right place this time, huh?” Even with his voice pitched low, Ritchie’s energy fills the area. Devin thinks, even with the two men side by side, if they hadn’t been introduced to him he would still assume Ritchie was his brother, for that presence alone. He has a grin that speaks to how pleased he is with his own joke, and Devin hates that he finds it mind-meltingly attractive. Everything except for his harshly bitten nails suggests utter confidence as he slouches slightly in his chair.
“I managed, somehow,” Devin shoots back. Ritchie’s smile grows miraculously wider.
His mouth pops open to respond when Michael coughs to clear his throat, “So, Devin. You said you wanted to help, right? Like really, really wanted to help?”
He looks at his brother who he would do anything for, “I do.”
“How do you feel about a little treason?” Ritchie leans over. He laughs at whatever he sees in Devin’s expression. It sounds the same as the dreamy one he’d heard yesterday. “Just a little bit of treason, nothing to get worried over.”
Devin looks at Michael for help, but it’s Brandon who cuts in.
“My brother is being… dramatic. It isn’t treason,” he assures.
“Just, something best to keep undercover until our crown prince actually gets crowned,” Michael affirms.
Devin blinks once, twice, and three times before responding, “What part of wedding planning requires treason?”
Ritchie and Michael both turn to Brandon, who sighs, “The kind that isn’t planning at all. I… cannot marry princess Francesca. The wedding can’t happen.”
“What?” It slips out without Devin even noticing. “You must have said yes to her proposal?”
Brandon giggles, high pitched and disbelieving as he thinks about it.
Ritchie winces, “Our parents are… strict, ‘No’ wasn’t really an option when they’ve been planning it for years.”
“It’s a political marriage,” Michael adds.
Brandon coughs, “More like a political prison.”
Ritchie snorts.
Brandon leans in further, “She’s crazy, she always has been. Ever since we were kids she’s been obsessed with this idea she has of ‘us.’ She was awful, and she didn’t get better with age.”
“Crazy?” Ritchie hisses. “More like completely deranged!"
“We can’t get married,” Brandon pleads. “She’ll kill me.”
Michael looks at him with the same eyes Devin has never been able to say no to, “Devin, please.”
The for me is implied, and Devin takes a second to look at his brother. Really look at him.
His skin is paler and the bags under his eyes are haunting, but there is more life in his eyes than Devin has ever seen. Michael needs this. Needs the opportunities working with Brandon opens up to him.
There’s no world where he would say anything else. Not for his brother.
“What do you need me to do?”