Tsuna didn't recall the wedding being anything spectacular, though logically she knew that it must have been. It had been a Vongola celebration, after all. She was just happy that she hadn't cried like she'd done every day leading up to her nuptials.
Maybe that was why she didn't remember anything about the actual ceremony or the events leading up to it - she had been too focused on trying not to breakdown and embarrass herself in front of her spouse and the upper echelon of the Family.
Now as she sat on the bed she was expected to share with her new husband, Tsuna could feel the bitter swell of nausea paired with the burn of tears. She sniffed softly and glanced at the shut door leading to the bathroom when she heard the creak of the pipes stopping. She wasn't ready for this.
She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for this.
Which was really sort of pathetic seeing as she had known about the engagement for half of her life. She had even lived in the same house as the man for the last two years of her life to "see if she was up to the duty of marrying the next don".
It was almost funny how everyone liked to pretend she had a choice in the matter.
The moment he reentered the room, Tsuna felt herself tense instinctively. It proved to be for naught as he chose ignored her while going through what she assumed to be his nightly routine. She didn't dare look up from her hands twisting together nervously in her lap even as she felt the bed shift. Tsuna winced as a hand landed roughly on her shoulder and jerked her to face him. Expecting the worse, Tsuna stifled a whimper.
Her husband sneered, "Quit whining and go to bed, Brat."
Tsuna's eyes shot open in shock, and she stared at the man next to her in disbelief as he leaned to turn off the light. Soon enough, he was under the covers with his back to her, and Tsuna had to press her hands to her mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to escape.
She didn't get any sleep that night, and she doubted that Xanxus had gotten any, either.
Almost two months of marriage and nothing had yet to happen in the bedroom besides one occasion of Xanxus yelling at her.
He had ended up leaving after he caught himself raising his cup to throw at her, slamming the door behind him with a snarled curse followed shortly by the sound of glass shattering in the hall. Tsuna hadn't see him for the next three days. The third night after the incident – Tsuna wouldn't call it an argument; arguments required both of their participation – he entered the room as if nothing had happened and went through his regular routine before laying down and falling asleep without saying a single word. He hadn't even looked at her.
It seemed as though things were back to normal.
Tsuna would call their marriage a joke if she didn't think she'd be killed for it. Well, maybe not killed, threatened, more likely. Tsuna wasn't very smart – she had nearly flunked out of school at fourteen – but even she had realized that a legitimate son of the ninth shouldn't have had to marry someone else with Vongola blood, excuses of reintroducing the first's line be damned. Along with that realization came the one that if anything happened to Tsuna before an heir was born, Xanxus would be screwed.
While she doubted anyone could kill him to usurp his position as Decimo– she had learned that her husband was something like a raging force of nature – his progeny, if he could find a woman to carry them that hadn't been tied to him contractually for the most part of her life, would have no right to the Vongola.
And if she wasn't mistaken, if she died before bearing Xanxus an heir, the Vongola would have no other of the Vongola bloodline to carry on the title of don. The famigilia would probably crumble from the inside out if that happened, and wasn't that a comforting thought? It took her husband and his supporters off of her list of people likely to try to kill her just for existing and placed them on her (very short) list of people trying to keep her alive.
Tsuna idly wondered if all arranged marriages were like hers.
The servants whispered.
They talked of how the maids have yet to find blood on the sheets. They talked of her impure blood and her bastard husband, and how their children wouldn't be worthy of running the famiglia. There was even a small betting pool among some of the gutsier employees on how long it would take before Xanxus killed her. (Tsuna could already tell who was going to win that one – the oldest chef had declared her safe until she had a son, and that was exactly what had been implied by the ninth's cloud guardian.)
They all seemed to think that Tsuna couldn't understand what they were saying, so most didn't even bother to hide what they talked about while they cleaned in her presence. She supposed it was because she only repeated the same five or so words over and over.
She was mostly fine with it. None of what they said was false, and harmless gossip had stopped bothering her in middle school. She just wished that they would find something else to talk about, now. It had been nearly half a year, yet every morning when they maids came to tidy up the bedroom, they cast what were mostly discreet glances and made hushed remarks under their breath to one another.
Tsuna wondered what would happen if her husband heard even a hint of what passed the servants' lips, and the thought didn't shock her as much as it would have a year ago. She made a quiet promise to herself to not breathe a word of any of it ever, if only for the sake of keeping everyone alive and mostly unharmed.
Because for all that they were shameless gossips, they had enough foresight to whisper, and they were always polite to her. It would be terrible if Xanxus killed everyone for mindless chatter. Besides, she couldn't blame them for their talk. If any of her friends were in the mansion – or Italy, in general – she probably would have been talking to them about her train wreck of a marriage, too.