Idk about this one, I might write a follow-up to it? I have some more ideas for this little verse and it doesn't really feel completed but I'm sick of looking at it, so whatever. Expect anything.
"I still don't see why I have to do this."
Press sighed and set down the comb he'd been futilely trying to run through his nephew's hair. "For the fifth time, Bobby, it's a marriage of convenience. They happen all the time, to join two kingdoms and bring peace and whatnot. It isn't the end of the world."
"Yeah," Bobby groused, "I just don't see why the guy I'm marrying has to be so old. Doesn't he have, like, a daughter or son closer to my age that I could marry instead? He looks like he could be my father, for crying out loud!"
"I wish, but fate doesn't work like that." Press stood and pulled on Bobby's elbow, bringing him up and off the stool as well. He smoothed the folds of his nephew's coat, patting down his brown locks and grunting in frustration. Brushing his hair hadn't changed a thing; it was still as messy as when they'd started.
"Well, you're as presentable as you're gonna get," he announced.
Bobby looked up hopefully. "We're done?"
Press smiled fondly. "Yes, you can go get Mark and Courtney. They should be finished with their lessons with Osa soon enough, and you can all wait in the library until it's time to leave. Just don't mess up your outfit!"
Bobby was already out the door, coattails flashing, the echo of his uncle's final order following him.
"Ew, he's so old!"
"Are you sure that's the right guy?"
Bobby laughed uncomfortably. "Yep, that's him. Uncle Press says he's actually younger than he looks, but with all that grey hair? I'm not so sure."
The trio of friends were crammed into a comfy loveseat in the back corner of the royal library, their usual afternoon hangout spot when no one had lessons to go to. Bobby sat in the middle, Mark and Courtney on either side of him. They were leaning into him, craning their necks over his shoulders to see the crumpled picture he held.
"It could be the artist's interpretation making him look older," Courtney commented. "They did the same thing to my mom, but the other way. It's not unheard of."
"Nah," Bobby dismissed. "My uncle says that this man only lets the best and most accurate artists paint his portraits. This is the spitting image."
"Sounds like a bit of a snob, if you ask me," Mark quipped. "What even is his name?"
"Saint Dane, I think," Bobby replied. "And get this: it's not a title. That's his actual name."
"So, a pretentious snob."
They started laughing, giggles echoing through the vast library. The librarian peeked his head around a shelf and shushed them. Bobby elbowed his friends to get them to shut up. Courtney playfully elbowed him back, accidentally pushing him into Mark, who shoved him back. An all-out elbow war threatened to start, but the librarian was still glaring at them and Bobby really didn't want to get kicked out so he stopped. They calmed down, going back to examining the picture of Bobby's husband-to-be.
"So have you actually met the guy yet, or are you gonna go into this completely blind?" Courtney asked.
"As a matter of fact, we're meeting up today," Bobby responded. "Uncle Press and I are visiting later this evening and having dinner with him, so they can talk over some of the legal stuff and I can get to know the guy I'm gonna marry. That's why I'm all dressed up."
"With the amount of effort your uncle put into actually getting you to look nice for once, Saint Dane better be impressed," Mark said, jabbing his friend's side playfully.
Bobby mock-glared at his best friend but let the comment slide. "I just hope he's not a dick. If I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life bound to him, I hope he's likeable. Otherwise we're gonna be fighting all the time, and I don't want that."
Commotion from the entrance to the library interrupted them. "Master Pendragon?" a scrawny servant called. "Your uncle requests your presence. He said you would be in here. Master Pendragon?"
While the librarian admonished the servant for shouting in his peaceful library, the trio stood up and stretched.
"Well, I guess this is it," Bobby said, hugging Mark and Courtney. "Time to meet my future husband."
"Good luck!" Courtney called after him as he headed to the well-chastised servant. They waved goodbye.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need it," Bobby muttered to himself.
The man standing in front of him was so tall, so completely well put-together, so fucking imposing, Bobby had trouble not fidgeting in place as he was silently appraised. Saint Dane stood so deathly still Bobby would have thought he was a statue, were it not for the slow flick of his eyes as he looked over Bobby. His icy blue eyes seemed to start him down, opening up his soul and peeling it away, layer by layer, until he could read every inch of Bobby's past and future and everything he was. Bobby's tongue seemed to turn to cotton in his mouth at the intensity. It was terrifying, not being able to speak in the face of that.
Finally, the king looked away, instead turning his eyes to Bobby's uncle. "Is this the best you could do?"
The distaste in his voice and how plainly he insulted Bobby snapped him out of his stunned silence. "Excuse me? I-"
"You are a mere child," Saint Dane smoothly interrupted, his expression unchanging. "I am not marrying a boy, no matter what it would do for our kingdoms."
A hand on his shoulder stopped Bobby before he could shoot back his retort and possibly ruin his relationship with the man before it even began. He looked up at his uncle, who shook his head. Let me take care of things, his expression said. Bobby huffed and crossed his arms, looking away.
"Excuse me, your majesty, but Robert actually turns twenty-three next month," Press said, an amiable smile on his face. "He may look young. He is anything but."
Saint Dane sniffed, looking down his nose at them. "I see no reason to follow through. Not only would his young appearance possibly tarnish my reputation and paint me as a pedophile, but his attitude and apparent extreme dislike of me would make the arrangement living hell for the both of us."
Press waved his hands. "I assure you, he is well-behaved. He may have an attitude, but given time to get to know you, I am sure he would warm up to you."
Bobby groaned internally. They were talking about him as if he wasn't there, and it was starting to get on his nerves. While they argued about whether or not he would be a good husband, he decided to wander a bit around the room they were in. So long as he didn't leave the room or mess with anything, they shouldn't get angry.
They had met up in the foyer of the castle and just walked into the main corridor when the stare-down started. It was lavishly decorated, with rich red drapes and golden trimming on everything. Banners with stars hung from the stairwells and bannisters, going up several floors even in just that first room. Bobby could see dozens of doors and hallways leading to who-knows-where, with servants and messengers bustling to and fro delivering things and cleaning.
He hadn't gone more than a handful of steps before the door at the end of the grand hall opened, admitting a young woman about Bobby's age. She had short brown hair, cut around her chin in a fashion popular nowadays, and wore a silver dress that flowed around her ankles. She sauntered over, eyes passing over Saint Dane and Press and landing on Bobby. She seemed to be familiar with them, as her gaze didn't falter until she saw him. She looked surprised a moment, then walked over to him.
"Greetings," she said, offering her hand. "My name is Nevva Winter."
"Bobby. Bobby Pendragon." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, looking back up curiously. "Who are you?"
Nevva laughed at his expression. "I am King Dane's ward, taken in after my mother disowned me. And you are?"
"Uhh, Press's nephew. King Tilton, I mean." Bobby released her hand, realizing belatedly he'd been holding it too long and blushing. "I'm the heir to the throne of Solara."
"His… nephew?" Nevva looked confused. "Wouldn't his son be the heir?"
"He never married."
"Oh."
They lapsed into silence, slightly awkward as they looked anywhere but each other. The conversation going on between his uncle and his soon-to-be-spouse came to an end. They walked over to the couple, Press landing a hand on Bobby's shoulder.
"I see you've met the young Lady Winter," he said, seeming in a much better mood than he had a few minutes ago.
"Yeah," Bobby mumbled. "Hey, Uncle Press? I got a question."
"Shoot."
"Why can't I just marry Nevva?"
They went silent. Bobby thought he'd asked something stupid, but was saved the embarrassment by Nevva laughing. He looked around, confused, as she cracked up and had to excuse herself from the conversation for a moment to calm down. Saint Dane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, gesturing for Press to answer. Press sighed.
"Bobby, there are two things wrong with that," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "For one, that's not how it works. A king's ward isn't their child, just some kid they took in when their parents wouldn't. They're not related, so unless King Dane decided to adopt her, she's not in line for the throne. Admittedly, that would make things easier, but certain people are stubborn and decide to take the difficult route with everything they do."
Saint Dane ignored the clear jab, instead examining his nails.
"Secondly?" Press continued. "She's already engaged."
Bobby almost choked. He glanced at Nevva, who burst out in giggles again. She flashed her left hand, where a delicate silver band rested on her ring finger. He hadn't noticed it earlier, though he really should have. That was the hand she offered to him when they met.
"Well I feel stupid," Bobby announced, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to force the fierce blush away.
"You should," Saint Dane commented.
Nevva elbowed him. "I feel flattered," she said, taking Bobby's hand and smiling. "I agree though, Dane sure does love to make things more complicated than they need be."
Bobby grinned at the affronted look the king gave his ward. She smirked briefly and flashed him an innocent smile, to which he waved off and huffed.
"So we decided to go ahead with the plan as originally stated," Saint Dane said, ignoring the giggling woman next to him. "Pendragon and I are to be wed in three weeks time, signing the official truce between Ravinia as Solara. He will be staying here until then so he can learn how we run things around here, and so that we may get to know each other. After the marriage, all his belongings will be transported to the castle and he will officially be moved in." He smoothed his hands over his robes and nodded towards the grand door at the end of the hall, gesturing for them to follow him.
"But now, I must insist that you join me for dinner. I had the cooks prepare a banquet for the arrival of the King and his heir, my future husband. "
"Welcome to Ravinia."