Muu Alexius is walking down the street to a vendor, trying to find a gift for Myron's birthday when a sudden commotion breaks out in front of him. He immediately goes towards it, trying to find the source. He pushes through the gathering crowd of people who are chattering and shoving each other. At the center of the crowd is a collapsed old man, wearing foreign robes. He must be a servant for the foreign embassy, Muu thinks. He makes it to the front and kneels down beside the man. He's sweating and his pale face is red with exertion and heat.
"Sir, what's wrong?" Muu asks, reaching out for the man. The man opens his eyes and takes in a shaky breath.
"Help me please," he says in a deep, thickly accented voice. Definitely foreign, Muu thinks.
"Of course," Muu responds. He takes the man's hand and gently pulls him up to his face. The man slouches against him. Despite being thick with age, his weight is nothing against Muu's strength. The man wipes at his face and tries to cool himself down. "Here," Muu says, parting the crowd, "Let's find you a place to sit down and cool off."
"Thank you," he says as Muu gets him under a canopy at a small coffee shop. He plops down heavily into the chair and leans back.
"I'll get you something to drink," Muu says. The man grabs at him, holding lightly onto the skirt of his tunic.
"Please, no," he says, shaking his head. He reaches into his cloak and takes out a purse filled with coins. Muu takes the coin purse and goes inside, ordering him a cold glass of water and uses his own money to buy himself a tea. He takes the drinks outside and hands the water to the man who takes it and drinks it gratefully before Muu hands back the purse. "Thank you," the old man says again. The two sit there for a bit, Muu wondering if the man knows enough Common to carry a conversation.
"What's your name, sir?" Muu asks him. He assumes that would be a common enough phrase like 'help,' 'please,' 'no,' and 'thank you.' The man looks at him, pauses before saying:
"My name is Jean," the man says with slight hesitation that Muu chalks up to him being very uncomfortable with the Common tongue. "What is your name?"
"My name is Muu," he answers. "Why are you in Reim?"
"Euh," the man pauses, parsing through his words. "Mon travaille?"
Travaille? Muu thinks. He barely remembers studying some Fièrien when he was younger, but he'd never been particularly good at languages. He tries to remember what travaille means. He remembers his earlier thought towards the man's identity. A servant for a foreign embassy. He seems as if he's well dressed, in his thick cloak, but with the cold weather that's typical of his northern homeland, that could be common even amongst peasants.
"Are you here for work?" Muu asks.
The man nods. "Oui –euh, yes. Work."
The conversation falters. It's hard to converse with someone who doesn't share your language. Muu sits with him as they sip their drinks. The redness is leaving the man's face. The man still has some water left in his glass, when their quiet is interrupted by man, younger than Jean, but older than Muu comes running up to them. He's wearing the thick, embroidered clothes of Fièrie and there's a glisten of sweat to his forehead, but he's in much better shape than Jean. He has brown hair and grey eyes, smile lines and crow's feet, and a manicured beard.
"Père Deuil!" he exclaims as he gets there. Muu recognizes père as father, but he's not sure about deuil. Maybe it's an endearment. Jean looks up, surprised. He smiles kindly at the younger man.
"Ah, mon enfant," he says. Muu remembers how much he liked the sound of Fièrien. "Pourquoi vous êtes ici? Vous avez un rendez-vous."
"Pourquoi je suis ici ? Pourquoi tu n'es pas avec ton groupe ?"
"J'avais trop chaud. Cet homme m'a aidé. Il est très gentil."
"Je vois…" the younger man says. He turns to Muu and in more fluent Common says, "thank you for taking care of this father. I'll be taking him now."
"It's not a problem," Muu responds. He helps the other man help Jean to his feet. "My name's Muu, by the way."
The man smiles at him. "It is nice to meet you. My name is Jean."
"But his name is Jean?" Muu gestures to the older man. The new Jean nods.
"His name is Jean-Jacques, mine is Jean-Pierre," Jean-Pierre tells him. Muu feels slightly shaken. "We are both Jean."
"Well," Muu says, getting over it. "It's nice to meet you both. Do you need help finding your way to where you need to be?"
Jean-Pierre seems to think about it before he shakes his head. "That is not necessary, but I thank you for your hospitality and for taking care of this father."
"Don't mention it," Muu says again. He thinks it's a little weird that Jean-Pierre keeps saying 'this father' and not 'my father' but he guesses it's a lingual difference. "I wish you two the best. If you ever need any help while you're here, go to the Alexius residence and ask for me. I'd be happy to show you around."
"Ah, you are too kind," Jean-Pierre responds. Jean-Jacques echoes the word kind under his breath. "See you again, Muu." Jean-Pierre lets Jean-Jacques lean on him and the two foreign men disappear into the crowd. Muu hails a servant to take the glasses back inside to be washed and leaves the establishment as well. That was strange, he thinks, but he doesn't dwell on it, continuing his search for Myron's birthday gift.
Muu is exercising with his crew when he's summoned by his great-uncle to come to the main house. Muu wipes the sweat from his brow and dismisses the servant to their other duties. Myron walks over to him.
"What's this about?" she asks. Muu shrugs.
"I honestly have no idea," he responds. She hums.
"Maybe it's about you being his heir? He's getting pretty old," she says. Muu shakes his head.
"I honestly can't see him ever stepping down," he rubs her hair, making her grimace. "I'll tell you what's going on when I get done with the meeting."
He leaves the training area and walks up the hill to the Alexius main house. It's always seemed empty to him, with only his celibate great-uncle living there. With no children of his own and only one brother who had only one child himself (Muu's father), Muu is the heir to his Ignatius's estate and governmental position. Usually, it's not too taxing of a relationship, however, recently Ignatius has been putting more pressure on Muu to attend official events and take on more responsibilities in planning battles and leading regular soldiers –not just the Fanalis Corps. Both of those things he's fine with. He enjoys being around people and encouraging them to do their very best.
He knocks on the door to Ignatius's study and waits for his grave voice to say welcome before walking in. Ignatius sits at his desk, documents in front of him and a quill in hand. He puts his quill down and sits back in his chair as Muu enters. He gestures for Muu to sit.
"Good afternoon, Uncle," Muu says amicably. Ignatius nods.
"Good morning, Muu," he says. "You may be wondering why I've summoned you."
"I am," he responds. Ignatius continues, not minding the interruption. He's solemn and straight-laced but he's not an unkind man and he accepts his half-breed nephew which is all Muu could ask for.
"As you're aware, the Emperor and the new leader of Fièrie have been negotiating a peace treaty between our countries. I've recently been made aware that a certain aspect of the deal has been keeping peace from being made. We've been asked by the Emperor to attend the talks as a show of strength."
"I understand," Muu says, assuming he's being included in attendance for the purposes of grooming him to be the next Supreme Commander. "When do we need to be there?"
"They're reconvening after lunch, at around three."
"Alright, am I excused to get ready?" Muu asks. He needs to shower and change into a toga instead of what he normally wears to work out. Ignatius nods and dismisses him. Muu leaves and goes to his room in the house. He cleans himself off in the communal bath before returning to get dressed. His great-uncle hadn't given him much time to get ready before they needed to leave, but that's fine. War has made Muu quick.
After he's ready and donned his armor, he meets Ignatius outside in the gardens at the front of the house, ready to walk the short distance to the palace. When they get there and enter the room where the negotiations are taking place, he sees a group of people to his side, made up of Scheherazade, the Emperor, and the prince, Nerva, who looks extremely unhappy. He locks eyes with Scheherazade and bows his head to her. She smiles at him, making his heart do a flip-flop, before she returns her attention to the discussion happening around her. To the front he sees another group of people, wearing the heavy and decorated fabrics of Fièrien fashion. There's two men whose backs are turned to him and a young girl and boy who look to be siblings and near in age. They seem to be arguing about something, the two siblings looking very unhappy with whatever the man with slouched posture is saying. Muu and his uncle take a seat at the table and soon the other Reimans file to sit down. He watches the new group as they stop talking, the discussion obviously not over, before taking their seats. He looks at the faces of the men and feels whiplash –
Jean-Pierre and Jean-Jacques? He thinks. Why are they here?
The two men see him and smile and nod in acknowledgement.
"Monsieur de Bonté," the Emperor intones, seeming frustrated as he addresses Jean-Pierre (Is Jean-Pierre the new leader of Fièrie? Muu thinks, knowing that Monsieur de Bonté was the title the new leader had taken to distance himself from the previous warring king, Vercingetorix.) "Have you looked over the new revision to the treaty?"
Jean-Pierre frowns at him, the expression looking foreign and wrong. "Yes, and we hate it."
The Emperor sighs through his nose. Nerva loudly groans. The young man, who now that he's closer, seems to be around the same age as Muu rolls his eyes at the Reiman prince. His sister, makes a face. Scheherazade just nods as if she knew they wouldn't like it. The Emperor asks, "What do you hate?"
"My daughter will not marry your son," Jean-Pierre says seriously. "Your son has done nothing but mock us and ignore both Lucien's and Estelle's gestures of goodness and peace. He has not shown himself to be deserving of either my daughter's person or the magic of my wife."
So that's what this is about, Muu think. The magic of the Pervenche family had become feared in the Reiman army. Regardless of there only being three wielders (two now, that the wife had seemingly died), it was powerful and scary. No one that Muu knew could understand the way it worked or how it was used. All he knew about it was the nickname the army had given it: Life-Stealer. Of course, the Emperor would want that kind of power in his bloodline. It would only strength his lineage's rule.
"I assure you my son is usually far more diplomatic than this," the Emperor shoots Nerva a look. Muu tries to mask any expression on his face that would contrast the words of the Emperor.
"Regardless," Jean-Pierre cuts him off. "I know the reason why you want my daughter is less to unite our nations but to strengthen your own rule," before the Emperor can cut in, Jean-Pierre continues. "We have decided to give a counter-offer. It still includes marriage; however, it will not be in your bloodline."
"What is this counter-offer?" the Emperor asks, narrowing his eyes.
"It makes far more sense, seeing has how you do not fight with your people, for the offensive nature of the Pervenche's power to be wielded by, say, an official in the army. Is it not your goal to better protect your own people?"
Shady, Muu thinks. Jean-Pierre continues.
"We are aware of your army's hierarchy and that other than the lady Scheherazade, the next most powerful position in your government is the Supreme Commander," he looks over at Muu and Ignatius. Muu frowns, wondering if he means to wed his daughter to his uncle when he realizes, oh, I'm next. "Not only does it make sense in utilization, but my Druid and I have both encountered Monsieur Muu during our stay and we were more than impressed with his dignity and worthiness of the platform he will be bestowed."
"You wish to marry your daughter, the princess, to my nephew?" Ignatius cuts him, his tone reserved. Jean-Pierre nods at him with a smile.
"He is our choice of bachelor. Of course, this is something that all must consent to. If it is not him, we will not accept a marriage as part of the treaty."
Muu stares down at the table. It's either marry someone he's never met and probably won't fall in love with or risk another war between Fièrie and Reim. Scheherazade speaks.
"If this is truly the only way to restore peace to the north then I advise that we take the deal."
Her sweet voice softly hammers nails into both Muu's heart and fate. The Emperor still doesn't seem happy with the deal, but it's better than no marriage at all. Despite Muu's parentage, he's still the heir to his uncle and he has the bloodline of Pernadius. He's the next best choice, after Nerva.
"What do you say, Nephew?" Ignatius asks him. With all the attention turned towards him, Muu feels slightly choked before he resolves himself. He stands up.
"I agree to the marriage." He looks at Jean-Pierre and as he does so, his eyes trail across the girl next to him. She looks at him fiercely, with stormy grey eyes. He wonders if she will be his wife.
Jean-Pierre smiles. "Then all is settled. Please write that as a condition of the treaty, Muu Alexius will be betrothed to my youngest daughter, Yvette and—" before he can finish, both Lucien and Estelle (he's not sure which is which) burst into heated words of anger.
"Jamais je n'autoriserai ça!" yells the girl.
"Yvette est un enfant!" yells the boy.
Jean-Pierre and Jean-Jacques share a look between them before Jean-Pierre asks for a short respite which the emperor allows. The group commences to argue more the girl says something that starts with moi and then the boy turns to her, outraged and surprised. She cuts him off before he can say anything and continues to speak, quickly and succinctly. Jean-Pierre and Jean-Jacques do not look pleased before, with a grim look, Jean-Pierre nods to her.
"Je suis d'accord," he says. She also looks grim but relieved. The group sits down. Jean-Pierre turns to speak, but the girl speaks instead.
"Muu will not be marrying Yvette," she says, looking at the group. She has an almost native accent when she speaks Common. "He will be marrying the first princess and heir to the throne of Fièrie. Estelle Pervenche, daughter of Monsieur de Bonté and the late Madame de Bonté."
"Why has this change been made?" the Emperor asks, looking mad. It's angering to him that Muu will be marrying an heir while he is not even a prince. It confuses Muu as well, he looks at the girl, most likely Estelle herself, with curiosity.
"Yvette is only sixteen," she responds. "I will never allow my sister to sell her life at such a young age to a man who is seven years her senior. I will take her place in the marriage."
"I do not approve of any marriage," the boy, Lucien, says under his breath. He says it in Common so while it's quiet, Muu knows he wanted everyone to hear and understand. Estelle looks down at him.
"It has to be this way, Lucien," in Fièrien, she continues, "Je sais que tu seras un roi formidable."
There's silence between the siblings before Muu hears him whisper. "Je ne veux pas être le roi. C'est toi qui était censé l'être."
The Emperor looks at Muu, as does the rest of the table, following his lead. "Is this fine with you, Muu?"
Muu swallows and nods again. "I will do what it takes to serve my country."
The Emperor and Jean-Pierre make eye contact, watching as the scribe rewrites that section of the treaty. "In all else, we are equal," Jean-Pierre says. He and the Emperor shake hands.
"It is a deal," the Emperor says.
Muu is going to be married.
After the meeting, in the corner of their quarters, Estelle is embraced by both her brother and her father. Her brother cries openly, but her father holds back his tears.
"I saved our country for you to lead it," Lucien sobs. "I wanted you to lead our country. We wanted you to lead our country."
"I'm sorry," she says, holding her twin close to her. "I'm sorry, Lucien."
"My dear, I wish it didn't have to be this way," her father says, holding her and her brother close. "The Emperor was pushing for a marriage. It has to be this way, for there to be peace."
"I know," she says. "I knew this would probably happen. I would never have let Yvette marry Nerva either. I would have done this either way."
"I wish I was a woman so I could take your place," Lucien says. Estelle laughs.
"It's better this way. You'll be an amazing king. I know you will be. You fought the revolution and took our country back almost on your own, even when no one believed in you. That was all you, Lucien. The people will love you."
"But you're the favorite," he says.
"It's because I don't walk around looking like I want to murder everyone I see," Estelle laughs, but her voice is thick. Hold it together, she directs herself. She closes her eyes for a second longer than it takes to blink, keeping any tears from falling. She needs to stay strong for Lucien. For her father. She doesn't want them to feel guilty. She chose this.
It was either her or her sister, and she wants it to be her, not her sister. Yvette is too young. And she's all the way back at the capital of Fièrie, not even aware that her future had almost been sold as an addendum in a contract. Estelle chose this. Yvette wouldn't have been given a choice. Now her sister is free to live her life as she pleases, not as a trophy of peace. I don't want to be a trophy, Estelle thinks before she stops herself, it's for the peace of our people.
She and her family stand there, for how long she can't tell, embracing and crying and saying goodbye.
Guess who's back at it again with another multi-chapter fic. This is more of a prologue than a chapter, tbh.
Etymologies:
Père Deuil: father mourning (there's not a lot known about Gaul druids so I'm playing fast and loose with that shit)
Estelle: Star
Lucien: Light
Yvette: Yew tree
Monsieur de Bonté: 'My lord of goodness' (this is a title taken so that Jean-Pierre doesn't have to refer to himself as a king since that's a buzzword in current Fièrien politics)
Fièrie: taken from the word fière meaning 'proud.'
Translations:
"Ah, mon enfant. Pourquoi vous êtes ici ? Vous avez un rendez-vous."
"Pourquoi je suis ici ? Pourquoi tu n'es pas avec ton groupe ?"
"J'avais trop chaud. Cet homme m'a aidé. Il est très gentil."
"Je vois…"
("Oh, my child. Why are you here? Don't you have a meeting?" "Why am I here? Why aren't you with your group?" "I was too hot. This man helped me. He is very kind." "I see…")
"Jamais je n'autoriserai ça!"
"Yvette est un enfant!"
("I will never allow that!" "Yvette is a child!")
"Je suis d'accord."
("I agree.")
"Je sais que tu seras un roi formidable."
"Je ne veux pas être le roi. C'est toi qui était censé l'être."
("I know that you will be an amazing king." "I don't want to be a king. It was supposed to be you.")
BIG SHOUT out to Sonata Fuling for helping me out with making some of the French sound more natural! You are truly the realest!