Disclaimer: Don't own it.
OOOOO
Bicycle
OOOOO
I. Adray
When he had first known of his opportunity to meet son of the infamous Glou Nox, Adray was beside himself. Surely, he thought with glee, this man would be the one to break his obstinate daughter's streak of rejecting the potential husbands he had presented to her over the years following her coming of age. Clair would not even deign to associate with her suitors outside of the realm of duty, and would instead devote her free time to training subordinates, composing reports, and additional reconnaissance. She used the latter of which as an excuse to not return to Aquios, where a line of men gathered by Adray awaited their chance to woo her. Sequestered away in her temporary base in Arias, Clair was well protected from her pesky father's scheming.
On their way to the Royal City of Airyglyph, Adray composed a mental checklist of how to go about approaching the Nox heir in regards to an arranged marriage. Firstly, although he had no picture of his ebon-haired daughter (and it was then that he cursed himself for not tattooing a bust of her onto his back), he would inform the man of Clair's unprecedented beauty, for she was admired by both countless men and women in their homeland and thus was better than any available wench that the young swordsman's country had to offer. Secondly, he would remind the boy of political obligation—while the war between their two countries had officially ended in favor of combining forces to combat the beings from the sky, their differences remained unaddressed and they could easily fall back into conflict once the third party had been destroyed. Well, he thought with a starry-eyed look while clutching his fists to his face and smiling, perhaps the heartbreaking love story of Albel Nox and Clair Lasbard would sway the hoi polloi to put aside differences and love one another!
"Is something wrong?" Nel asked, somewhat suspicious of her older countryman's starry-eyed expression (she, being accustomed to Adray's plotting, figured he had another ill conceived machination for Clair).
"Oh," said Adray, quickly reverting to a more composed stance, "It is nothing to engender your worry, Nel." He resisted the urge to pat her on the head as he did when she was but a child, raising his outstretched hands in a mock stretch to hide his original intention.
Not believing his answer (for she was always worried when it came to his harebrained marriage proposals) but letting him slide in favor of the silence of the Traum Mountains, she turned to face the direction of their destination and did not question him any further.
Adray brought his attention to Nel for a moment, casually observing the halo created by the highlights in her red hair and how the melted snow on her skin made her glisten in the faint sunlight. If Clair ever had a rival for beauty, it was Nevelle's daughter. Thirdly (he begrudgingly lengthened his list, a little frustrated that he had to acknowledge this particular obstacle), keep Nel away from Albel. It was unlikely that the hatred between them would evolve into anything past reluctant respect, but this was the best chance Adray had to see Clair off into holy matrimony, and he would not allow it to slip away due to his underestimation of human emotion.
As they continued on to Airyglyph, Adray lost himself in dreams of the future, visions of grandchildren tugging on his beard and begging to hear stories of times long past. Before he realized it the group was within the confines of the castle and being led down to the dungeons by Count Woltar, an aging man Adray recognized from several skirmishes that predated the war.
"Why?" he heard Fayt suddenly ask, pulling him out of thoughts of the past and placing him in the present. It was then that Adray noticed the source of the blue haired man's questioning, and his jaw dropped at the sight he beheld. So, this was Albel the Wicked…
To begin, Adray was shocked to not have been met with his ideal image of the man who would be Clair's husband. As someone who was known for his ferocity on the battlefield, Albel was hardly what one would call manly. The swordsman wore a fierce scowl as Woltar spoke of Duke Vox, but beyond that cruel expression was fair skin framed by dark bangs and blonde locks that dangled in front of his ears. He was, although Adray hated to admit it, rather pretty. His eyes trailed down to the other man's chest (unmistakably male, thankfully) and lower to what he could only describe as childbearing hips. Adray snorted at the thought, masking his laugh with a not-too-subtle cough. Fortunately, it went unnoticed.
Two problems arose from Albel's appearance. The first of which was, of course, that he would have to find a new husband for Clair. Spindly men like the Nox boy were no good for strong grandchildren and Adray would hate for one of his grandsons to be teased for being so girly (after all, the man's hips appeared to be wider than Clair's and he showed more skin than the common whore—not that Adray was at all intrigued by the thigh that peaked out of The Wicked's sarong). The second was, how to say, more difficult than the first. Adray, wanting to keep the political aspect of his plan in tact, would opt to find another Glyphian man worthy of Clair's hand. However, Albel's presence significantly lowered the Aquarian man's chances. Like Clair, it was obvious that Albel held the hearts of both genders in his hands (or hand and claw, as it were) and that he may have already captured the hearts of most of Airyglyph's military brass. He sighed. The things he would do for his daughter…
Taking a deep breath, he puffed out his chest and stood up straight, raising his chin ever so slightly and tightening his arm muscles, making them budge outward in what he could only describe as the manliest display of manly manliness.
Ever.
He was still an eligible bachelor, and if sacrificing that title in order to rid the singles circuit of one less distraction would mean more suitors for Clair, so be it.
OOOOO
Comments: Alphabetical order, as to not hurt anyone's feelings. Skip a chapter if a certain pairing offends your sensibilities.
Next victim: Cliff