A Third Prince Interlude

The road he was traveling was a familiar one, its twists, turns and– unfortunately– bumps ones he'd memorized over the many years he'd started coming here. He had stopped when he and everyone else had gone to the Academy, which had been so much more convenient, but that period of his life had ended, and now things were… well, not exactly back to the way things were.

For one thing, while going down this road, the most direct route between the Caiptal and the Claes manor, usually filled him with happy eagerness at the prospect of being with his Katarina, he knew she would not be at the end of this road. No, for some inexplicable reason, she'd decided that she would become a knight. Which, admittedly, was a much more attainable and acceptable profession for a duke's daughter than being a farmer, but…

The Third Prince of Sorcier sighed. He loved his Katarina, he really did, but after all these years, he still couldn't understand what went on in that head of hers, just that it was wild and wonderful and would soon be all his.

The thought brought a genuine smile to his face in privacy of his carriage, one that stayed with him until he arrived at the Claes estate. Then he smoothed it into something more suitable for the public as he stepped out of his carriage, only to have it turn gritty when he saw that Keith was there to greet him.

"Keith," he said through gritted teeth.

"Your highness," he said through equally gritted teeth. "What are you doing here? You know Katarina's not here, right? Shouldn't you be bothering Maria?"

His mood dipped slightly at the reminder his Katarina wasn't here, but he'd known that was the case. "Actually," he said. "I've come to speak to her grace your mother."

"If you threaten my mother–" Keith began.

"Keith! What sort of person do you take me for?" he said, genuinely not surprised.

"A black-hearted sadist who's not used to not getting what he wants?" Keith said.

"Well, yes, but that's only a small part of who I am," he said. "People are complicated Keith. I'll have you know Maria's children think very well off me. Well, me and Alan, but still."

"What brought this on?" Keith said, still suspicious.

"Oh, well, it's been some time since I've spoke to her grace the Duchess," he said. "Between the Academy, my duties, and how we don't move in the same circles quite yet, I think it's been years since I've spoken with her, aside from her wonderfully humorous letters joking about how my Katarina isn't suited to be queen."

"Katarina isn't suited to be queen, she's absolutely terrible at finances and organizing anything that isn't a farm plot," Keith pointed out.

"She is perfectly suited to be queen, for all she needs to be is my wife," he said.

"Do you even know what the queen does, day to day?" Keith said. "I know Queen Arianna has to oversee the capital's infrastructure, at the very least. If Katarina had to do that job, the capital would be turned into a farm!"

"You are a terrible brother Keith, having so little faith in your dear sister," he said. Of course he knew that, he'd sat on his mother's knee and watched what she did, back when he'd been small enough to fit. It didn't matter. He'd do the work of king and queen if he had to!

Keith rolled his eyes. "Well, this has been barely tolerable, but I've done my duty, so I'm sure you can see yourself to mother on your own."

He opened his mouth to needle Keith about being a poor host–

"I have to go take care of Katarina's 'garden'," Keith continued. "You know, that thing she loves and put a lot of work into for years? You're welcome to join me."

"I'll pass," he said. "Don't you have gardeners for that sort of thing?"

"I don't trust anyone but Tom to take care of it properly, and he has other duties too," Keith said.

"Is farming really a suitable activity for a duke's heir?" he said.

For some reason, Keith smirked at him. "Oh, your highness, you're terribly out of date. Might want to correct that. You wouldn't want to be accused of improper behavior, would you?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means you speak like a man still stuck on fifth edition while everyone else is going by the seventh," Keith said. "Well, I'll leave you to your embarrassing missteps. I have my sister's garden to work."

He rolled his eyes. Truth be told, he'd stopped at third edition when it became clear there hadn't been any notable changes between it and the second and first. Why must he bother learning new etiquette when it merely reprinted the same core rules? A waste of time he could be spending with his Katarina.

Putting Keith out of his mind, he followed the Claes butler to where he would be meeting with her grace.

"Your grace," he said with a smile as he sat across from her in the sitting room. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"How could I not, your highness?" her grace, duchess Millidiana Claes née Adeth, said, smiling at him politely from across the tea table. She was a severe woman who shared little with her much more cheerful, radiant daughter, except for the eyes. They had the same eyes. But where Katarina looked through hers with boundless cheer and kindness, the duchess looked like she was trying to stab you to death with her gaze alone. And that was her default, resting state. Apparently when she actually wanted to stab you to death with her gaze, it was so sharp you could practically feel it. "I am always available to meet with your distinguished personage. Please break off your engagement with my daughter."

"I must refuse," he said. It was an old exchange, though he was surprised she hadn't included the usual addendum about Katarina not being suited to be queen and bringing embarrassment to the kingdom. "As her fiancé, I have made an agreement to marry her, and I shall. I will not dishonor her by doing anything else." It was an exchange they've been having for years now, a silly little joke. As if Duchess Claes would really dishonor her daughter by breaking off her engagement.

To his surprise, her eyes narrowed and her gaze sharpened. "That was cute when you were a boy on the cusp of manhood, your highness," she said. "Now that you're older, it has to end."

Well, yes, he supposed a running joke about breaking off his engagement to his beloved Katarina was sort of crass. "Yes, I suppose it does, your grace," he said. "Though I'll miss it. It was one of the few things we had in common."

The gaze he received in return was… spiky, for lack of a better word. "Such a pity the thing we would have in common is not a desire to see my daughter's fulfillment and happiness, your highness" she said.

"Oh, we still have that in common, your grace," he quickly assured her. "And as a matter of fact, it is in regards to that which I wish to speak with you about."

"Oh?" he grace said. "How so?"

"About my fiancée Katarina's squireship under Lady Campbell…" he began. He expected ambivalence or exasperation. Maybe a sigh along the lines of 'that girl…!'.

He wasn't expecting the proud smile that shattered her stoic countenance and made her resemblance to her daughter significantly more pronounced. "Ah yes, her squireship," she said proudly. "Anne and my niece Matthew have been giving us regular updates, and I must I couldn't be prouder. Katarina has always wholeheartedly pursued her desires, and I'm glad to see that hasn't changed. Matthew tells me her parry rate with a shield is much better than average, and Anne says that Katarina is quite happy in her training." The duchess let out the most genuine laugh he'd ever heard from her. "She's even managed to find time to continue farming! I cannot say I'm surprised. If you love something, you find a way to make time for it."

Smoothly, he kicked out the entire argument he'd had about trying to convince her grace to perhaps recall Katarina home, as she wasn't happy with the harshness of the training and missing her farm. "How wonderful. I'm so glad to hear it. I'm afraid I'm a little behind on Katarina's progress, as I have been unable to see her much."

"I'm told that's traditional," the duchess said, and for some reason her smile reminded him VERY much of Mary. "A squire in their Age of Fire could not be distracted by desires to, ah, link the flame, as it were, so they are usually sequestered during the early stages of their training until their knight believes they have sufficient self-discipline. And we all know how lacking in self-discipline and easily distracted Katarina can be. I've missed my daughter these many weeks she has been away, but I've had time to get used to it while she was at the Academy. Still, I'm looking forward to the dinner Lady Campbell will soon be hosting for myself and my husband so we can meet with our daughter and learn of her progress."

"Oh, how wonderful," he said, taking a twitch that would have developed in his eyebrow and burying it deep. "And when will this wonderful even be taking place?" If he could crash dinner… well, Maria was too nice to just kick him out, especially if he appeared that late…

"I'm afraid it's still being organized," the duchess said. "It's Lady Maria's first tax season, and I'm sure she'll need to prepare for it first."

He made a note to find Maria a trustworthy accountant– no, make that three trustworthy accountants– so he could have leverage for a favor, like coming over for dinner…

"Ah, but I am rambling," the duchess said, demurely covering her mouth with her closed fan. "What about her squireship did you wish to speak of, your highness?"

"Oh, I was merely concerned about how you were taking it, your grace," he said smoothly. It was sort of true, after all. "You must have dearly missed your daughter's presence in the house while she was at the Academy these last two years, only to have her leave again suddenly to become a squire. I know I would have been very forlorn, in your place."

"Ah, how sweet of you, your highness," the duchess said. "I admit, I do miss her, but she and I were able to reconnect wonderfully during out vist to my family in Hasard Duchy, and I still have my favorite son Keith, and now I have my dear niece Mathew here to spoil." Her face brightened. "And in a few months, we'll have my niece Olga here as well, and possibly half the family with her. I know my sisters have stated they wish to reciprocate my visit. So I am hardly forlorn. It's not like I have no other loved ones in my life to help me through this short length of separation from my daughter."

He managed not to wince as some of those words struck a little too close to home. After all, while the royal family wasn't the murderous nest of rats it had been in his father's childhood, they were hardly as close as what Duchess Claes was implying. His father did his best, but lack of affection from his majesty's father the old king meant he was awkward around his sons, and while their mother was more affectionate, she too was busy doing her part to help the kingdom run smoothly. He was close to Alan, but his brother was also suffering from Katarina separation and dealing with it by composing a lot of music for a lot of instruments…

Not for the first time, he lamented he didn't have a peer who was not secretly and not-secretly in love with his fiancée and trying to take her for themselves at some level. Even Maria and Rafael, his only friends who most definitely did not have any sort of romantic attraction to his Katarina at all (the weirdoes, but he wished them happiness so they didn't change their mind), were actually the ones actively keeping him away, even if for completely non-romantic reasons. The only ones he could talk to about this were Maria's children, and even they thought he was merely upset about not being able to play with her as much (except for that Ashina girl who had given him a disapproving look and told him to 'Not lewd Katarina, she's too young for that! Bad prince! No thinking with mushroom, or mama cut it off!')

"I'm glad for you, your grace," he managed to say with a straight, even sincere face, all the while sighing inside. "Someday, the Chosen Lord willing, my Katarina and I will have a family like that as well."

"It is not the Chosen Lord's willingness that matters but Katarina's, your highness," Duchess Claes said, holding her fan in front of her mouth. "To forget that would be very, very foolish."

Why did he feel like he was being stabbed by toothpicks? "I'm after our wedding, my Katarina and I will finally have to time to try," he said.

"Ah, yes, the rumored alleged wedding you intend to have," Duchess Claes said. "I was wondering when we would get to that. I was hoping you could clarify a few things for my, your highness. When I heard the rumors… well, I could scarcely believe it. I knew they must be wrong, as his highness would never have been so thoughtless as to plan to marry my daughter without asking for my blessing, nevermind my permission. Not the genius Third Prince and his much lauded memory and political acumen."

… oh dear. Wait, he could salvage this, he could salvage this…

"Ah, yes, those rumors," he said, looking apologetic.

"Indeed," Duchess Claes said, her fan slipping down a little, revealing her smile which was completely unlike his Katarina's at all, and looked very Mary-like. "Imagine my surprise when I heard the rumors that you intended to marry my daughter as soon as she graduated. The rumors sounded so certain, so definite, and yet I had not received one message to so much as inquire as to my availability to discuss the matter. And so I knew them to be false, for of course anyone who truly loved my dear Katarina enough to wish her hand in marriage would discuss it with me first, not simply assume they had any sort of right to dictate what my daughter would do without consulting her or her family. Did you suitably punish the fools who began spreading these rumors painting you as such a churlish, short-sighted idiot?"

"Ah, regrettably, I was never able to find them," he said, sweating on the inside, even if he'd done nothing wrong. That smile, those eyes… there was something perverse about those eyes making him feel terror, when he had looked upon their like all his life and felt only love. "It appears the rumors simply arose naturally due to some comments I made and the closeness and proximity my beloved fiancée and I share."

"How inconvenient," Duchess Claes sighed. "And here I was, hoping to impart my displeasure on the stupid, foolish, idiotic moron who spread such a thing. Ah, well." She shook his head.

"On that note, you grace, I am glad to be able to dispense any future displeasure on your part," he said.

One eyebrow rose. "You do, do you?" she said almost sardonically.

He nodded. "The rumors, while incorrect, had truth in its soul. I do love your daughter and wish to marry her. Therefore, I am here to ask you, your grace, for your blessing to wed… Katarina." Standing from his sofa, he bent at the waist and bowed low. "I ask your blessing to finally make good on the engagement I made with her all those years ago. Will you give me your blessing, Duchess Claes?"

He waited.

"No."

His head shot up, his entire body straightening in shock. "W-what?"

"No," Duchess Claes repeated. "No, I do not give you my blessing to marry my daughter."

He stared at her, speechless.

"I'd have thought asking you to break off your engagement for all these years would have been a hint, your highness," she continued. "For a genius, you are not very smart."

"B-but… why?!" he said. "Is it because you still think she would be a poor queen? That she'd embarrass the kingdom? Then I'll renounce any claim to the throne! Then Katarina wouldn't have to be queen, only my princess."

"Very stupid," Duchess Claes said. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, for your sake, your highness. No, it's not that I think she will embarrass the kingdom. Quite the opposite. Though I do think Katarina as she is will be a poor queen, Lady Maria's teachings have shown miracles can happen even without the power of the gods, so perhaps one day that will not be the case at all."

"Then… why?" he demanded, unmindful this was her place and had no right to demand anything. "Why would you stand in the way of my love for my Katarina?"

Finally, she looked him in the eye.

Rage.

He didn't remember her expression. Not the set of her lips, not the draw of her brows. He only remembered staring at those eyes and falling into a pit of hot, burning, incandescent, world-devouring rage.

"Because you called my daughter ugly," she said. Rage. "You went to her when she was laid on her bed of a head wound that must surely have still addled her, told her the scar on her face made her so ugly no one would ever wish to marry her for that reason alone, and then bound her to you as if it were a favor. And as she counted the years and watched herself in the mirror, as she watched the overwhelming ugliness you painted on her features fade… you looked at my beautiful daughter and told her it was still there. You made my daughter unable to believe anyone could possibly love someone as ugly as her. It is, strangely, the clearest, most deeply held belief in her heart: that because she bore the ugliest, most disfiguring scar in all Sorcier, no one could possibly love her as a woman. Especially not you, who became engaged to her by obligation, honor and pity."

Rage.

"So no, your highness. You may not have my blessing to marry my daughter. You may not have my permission to wed my daughter. However, take heart. Your engagement stands, for you are too stubborn to let go of it. You, and you alone, are her fiancé. May it bring you joy."

Rage.

"It was nice speaking to you, your highness." Duchess Claes's tone never changed. "Thank you for visiting. You are dismissed."

He found himself back in his carriage, staring at the empty seat opposite him, heart still filled with the memory of that rage.

"What just happened?" he asked himself in confusion and dawning horror…

A/N: So, my Pat-reon is up now at P.A.T.R.E.O.N.C.O.M -/-SCM2814. If you want to support this fic, that would be great, but no pressure. But if you do, you'll also get advanced access to my new original fiction series about an eldritch body horror-themed Sentai/Ranger-type superhero team...