unbeta-ed
If there was one thing Cheri has in common with other mothers out there, it was the way she went overboard when it concerned her children.
For example, secretly enlisting the help of His Majesty, His Excellency, his two brothers, Greta, and highly likely Günter as well, to throw a rather lavish birthday party for Gwendal.
He was certain that he made no mistake of not informing His Majesty of his birth date. The king was thoughtful, alright, and treated his subjects as his equals—a king of the people, certainly. Gwendal would give his life for him, and while he wasn't prone to proclamations of undying loyalty like someone, he knew in his heart that there would be nobody else that could top His Majesty's generosity.
Although there was nothing wrong with that, Gwendal couldn't help but think that his current dilemma could have been avoided if His Majesty wasn't too eager to make grand gestures for Gwendal as gratitude for running the kingdom on his stead while His Majesty, Wolfram, and Conrad were off their merry way chasing trouble. Really, Gwendal was just doing his job, along with keeping the Blood Pledge Castle intact from Anissina's rampant destruction under the guise of experiments and keeping Gunter indoors if there happened to be cases where Gunter would be struck with ideas such as going after His Majesty every single time the king would leave.
Gwendal's occupation could be traced back to his mother's reign. So, really, nothing new there.
What was new, however, was the birthday party thrown in with meeting potential matches for you, Gwennie, because mother wants more grandchildren and Greta needs cousins to play with in the castle!
And when Gwendal learned that his brothers (the traitors), His Majesty, and His Excellency had been on it too, Gwendal felt a different type of incoming headache: the migraine of betrayal.
They even dared to drag Greta in it!
"Now, now, Gwen dear, drop that scowl, please," Cheri chided, smoothing a non-existent crease on his crisp viridian attire, a little fancier than what he was usually wearing but not as stuffy as his formal uniform.
"Mother, I understand and I thank you for your concern," Gwendal tried as evenly as he could. "But the matchmaking should have been left out of this. You know it can be held on the Voltaire castle instead."
Cheri pouted. "But it's not like you return there often." Gwendal suppressed a wince. She might have guessed that it was his aversion tactic. "Besides, here is your home. Where else is it better to acclimate your future spouse?"
Why was she already jumping from finding a match to finding a spouse? Any man who wasn't betrothed would have been glad at the opportunity, sure, but not Gwendal—it made him weak on the knees.
He drowned her voice when she began the usual litany of her eldest already at the stage where he should be building his own family and making several heirs.
"Also, there's a theory that I want to test~"
The words floated audibly once more, the statement making him pause and frown in bemusement. "What theory?"
"Nothing to concern yourself with, Gwen." Her wink alone told him that it was something he should be concerned about. "Of course, it's about love, dear. Which you won't understand unless you drop that serious look."
Petulantly, Gwendal decided that he would be keeping the same expression overnight.
The intensity of the expression waned once the attention of the guests were on him. It wasn't the nervousness of speaking on stage; he was used to public speaking. Nor was it when he got a lot of appreciative stares; his mother was right, as usual, when she told him that there were a handful who would find that deep-set frown charming. Smoldering was the term she used. Yes, some actually liked serious faces. Gwendal didn't know what to do with that knowledge.
What made Gwendal falter, though, was that they actually wanted his attention. He was used to being the only one among the siblings who didn't get enough second looks; Wolfram was praised for his beauty, and Conrad was known as the half-breed. The latter wasn't positive as the first, admittedly. Still.
Gwendal was the overlooked one, the one who preferred the silence of his room and the company of his cute, knitted animals.
"Done moping?" Anissina asked from beside him.
Frankly, he almost forgot about her due to the absence of any explosion so far. She was dressed colorfully like the other women Cheri invited for Gwendal to choose among, a rose wounded around her wrist—a mark that she was one of his mother's chosen candidate for him. He wouldn't be surprised if she thought Anissina stood the highest chance compared to the rest.
Well, that was where his mother got it completely wrong: Anissina was at the very bottom of the list.
"I wasn't moping."
"Could have fooled me. For a birthday celebrant, you look awfully bored, dejected, and annoyed at once."
"Because I am."
Anissina snorted. "Too bad. His Majesty and the rest put their all in this. Even my test subject."
Test sub… "You mean Günter?" Gwendal already figured that he was in on it. This was exactly right up his alley. "Is that why he's not here?" Gwendal haven't seen him since the party started, perhaps running things on the background or handling kingdom affairs as Gwendal's substitute; Günter never let himself idle, after all. And he was one of those who has the nerve to tell Gwendal to take a break.
"Günter? Oh, you'll know immediately once he has arrived, Gwendal, just as you seem to be able to notice him even a mile away."
Anissina left him with an infuriating smirk. What exactly did she mean by noticing Günter even a mile away?
Alright, so he seemed to notice more and more about Günter lately. The little things like how he could write nonstop for eight hours; how his nose twitched at a good portion of History of Shin Makoku; how he stirred his drink by using his less dominant hand; and the way he would tuck strands of his hair on his right ear.
To name a few.
Gwendal chalked it up as him beginning to know more about Günter (albeit decades later despite working together for two kings now). It must be the time they spent together being swallowed by paperwork in the king's absence. Typically, it would begin with Günter wailing and flailing around until Gwendal would dump him with work to do. It was effective in calming him down, though not stopping his sobs.
"Happy birthday, Lord von Voltaire," an unknown female greeted him. "My uncle Lord von Rochefort extends his good wishes to you." A rose was sitting delicately on her wrist. "I am Francizca von Llyewin."
"Many thanks, Lady Francizca." Gwendal kissed the back of her hand. Judging from her immediate blush, he knew she was new to this. Her first formal party where she participated actively, perhaps. In short, she was too young for him to be even in here.
Another wave of irritation washed over Gwendal.
The Lady Llyewin spared him the awkwardness by excusing herself in a hurry. Gwendal pretended not to see her pink ears.
He also pretended not to see Conrad being amused not far, which he wouldn't drop for most of the evening while men and women were introduced to Gwendal by his mother. Truly, they were a selection of fine nobles, pretty and with refined manners.
It was nice to be acknowledged by several, but, frankly, there were only a number of people in the hall (and outside) whose opinions mattered to Gwendal.
The first smile that Gwendal cracked that evening was when Greta approached him with a gift, a knitted green scarf that he knew she put her heart into. He made sure to praise her improving knit work.
Promises of a dance with him were already made several times to different people before His Majesty raised a toast to him, wishing him a longer and fuller life. It wasn't long when the music began and Gwendal muddled through piece by piece with different partners for every music. When his feet began to ache, he pulled Anissina for a dance as a way of fending off another set of nobles. How he hated her knowing smirk.
"You do know that you could have avoided this," she said.
"How could you avoid something you had no idea of?"
Anissina rolled her eyes. "Of course you know your mother will eventually pull off this kind of thing. And she can be very persuasive. It's no brainer."
"Exactly why I couldn't have prevented this."
"You could, Gwendal, if you simply know how to be more honest with yourself."
Anissina was met with a deep frown after she was twirled. "What?"
"There's somebody, isn't there? If you had made a move, then you would have been happily involved with someone of your choosing. Maybe spending the night with them at this very moment. Thus, not needing this event in the first place."
"I—There's no—"
"Oh, please. You're good at being obvious, so you have to be better than that."
"No, Anissina. I really don't know what you're talking about."
"Then you're a dense idiot."
It was ridiculous. Why would she know more than him about himself?
Gwendal could only sigh. Any retort would be lost on this woman. "So you say often," he grumbled.
"Fortunately, it's not just you. He's clearly smitten with you, and yet he doesn't see that you are too. I swear, the quality of male mazoku these days. That's why you two suited each other terribly."
Gwendal almost missed his step. He?
Somehow… somehow he knew who she was talking about. He had refused to look closer and evaluate his own feelings, but the signs were definitely there if he were to be honest.
If he was asked, he would say it started with annoyance; then milder annoyance though it was heavily accompanied by respect; more respect and equal annoyance; annoyance that went up a notch since His Majesty Yuri came to Shin Makoku; another level of annoyance for fawning for the king; another level of annoyance that when examined was borne out of… jealousy; annoyance again but to his self this time; annoyance mixed with fascination and deeper respect that was never gone; fascination upon realizing the cuteness in there; fascination that turned to affection; affection that turned something more; affection that Gwendal would unconsciously suppress.
It wasn't a promising start to begin with.
"Why isn't he here?" Gwendal asked quietly several moments later.
"Well, he's being fashionably late, I suppose," she said. "You know he isn't vain, but maybe he made an exception for this particular occasion. He has to earn your attention among these people, after all."
At the exact end of the current music and Anissina's statement, murmurs filled the grand hall, mostly pointing at the direction of the entrance. Anissina took it as a chance to slink away from Gwendal. He hardly noticed her leave, too occupied paying attention to something else.
Descending the steps was Günter, except tonight he wasn't the tutor and advisor Gwendal knew.
His lilac hair was wounded around in a neat bun, two forelocks falling in front of his face gracefully. His usual white clothing was replaced with a more pleasing color of mauve with green trimming that made his eyes more pronounced. Günter paid no mind to the attention he gathered, seemingly searching among the crowd until his gaze met Gwendal.
Günter was easily the most beautiful person in the hall.
He smiled shyly, his fingers fiddling along his wrist, and that was when Gwendal noticed the a red rose he wore.
"It's, ah, hard to refuse Lady Cheri," Günter said when he was finally beside Gwendal. "I'm sorry. This might be uncomfortable for you."
"It doesn't." Gwendal surprised him with a small, fond smile. "I'm glad you're here."
"Oh." Günter's pale cheeks were dusted with an adorable pink. "I'm glad I'm here too."
They needed no words once the mellow tone began, their hands linking automatically like they had done this; in a way, they did—they danced around each other for too long that the people within their close circle felt the need to intervene under the pretense of matchmaking Gwendal to numerous strangers.
Gwendal could see now what was so amusing in this whole affair.
Without taking his eyes off of Günter, Gwendal mused that they wouldn't be surprised anymore if he told them later that he finally made his mind.
fin