Holidaysat221b Prompt of the Day Royalty AU : "We've been engaged to be married since we were three but this is the first time we've met and your portraits really don't do you justice." - mousedetective
A/N: Yes, I probably should have made this a fic involving Doctor Strange but alas I didn't think of it in time and so you're stuck with this mildly T rated, vaguely Victorian-ish fic instead. Enjoy!
"I feel strange. Finally meeting him, I mean. It feels strange."
"I understand."
Princess Margaret, Molly to her friends and families and the palace staff and groundskeepers and - well, basically everyone who had ever met her - tried to still the nervous twisting of her hands since it was obvious she wasn't going to be able to still the nervous tangling of her tongue. "Do you, Mary? Do you understand?"
Mary, Lady Mary of Morstan, nodded her head firmly. "I do. Remember what I told you when I met John for the first time?"
It was Molly's turn to nod. "Like butterflies had erupted in a cloud in your stomach," she replied. "Or was it bees in a swarm? Something insectile and lots of them where they didn't belong. But what if I don't feel that way about Prince Sherlock? I mean, the royal portraits make him seem a bit…horse-faced." She felt a hot blush staining her cheeks. "Oh, that's frightfully shallow of me, isn't it? To place so much on appearance. But what else can I do? I know he's a prince and that this marriage will benefit both our kingdoms; I know he's the younger brother so this is sort of his only chance at a throne, and they say he's very scientifically minded - that's good, right?"
All of that came out in a rush, a single breath that left her gasping a bit at the end and brought a dimple to Lady Mary's cheek. "Breathe, Molly," she advised gently. "Yes, all of that's good, especially him being scientifically minded - that's something you'll have in common. I just hope he's not as stuffy as his elder brother."
Molly looked at her friend with interest. "You've met him? Prince Mycroft? What odd names they have," she added, again without taking a breath. Nervousness took her that way, made her spill every thought in her head without pausing to think. At least, when she was in trusted company as she was now.
"Old family names," Mary explained with another smile. "And yes, I've met him. He takes his responsibilities far too seriously and only talks politics and the glorious history of the Holmes family." She wrinkled her nose in an exaggerated fashion, causing her dear friend to once again break into laughter.
Their merriment was interrupted by a discreet tapping at the door. "Enter!" Molly called out, stifling her giggles. However, her laughter died in her throat at the sight of the Minister for Protocol ('Minister of Pomposity' was Lady Mary's secret name for him, and thus Princess Molly's as well). She rose to her feet. "He's here?"
He nodded stiffly. "Prince Sherlock has arrived. He awaits upon your leisure in the west receiving chamber."
Molly gave Mary a panic-stricken look. "He's here," she repeated blankly.
Threading her arm through that of the princess, Lady Mary gently led her to the door. "Yes, he's here, my dear one. And you will show him exactly how strong, intelligent and frankly wonderful a wife he's going to be blessed with."
Her words steadied Molly, who took a deep breath, kissed her friend on the cheek, and nodded regally to the Minister. "I will see him now," she said in her most formal tones.
But she couldn't help casting a forlorn glance over her shoulder - which immediately turned to stifled giggles as Mary mouthed 'Minister of Pomposity' at her with exaggerated care.
She only hoped Prince Sherlock would be able to appreciate her sense of humor - and if he didn't? She gave a mental shrug. At least her best friend understood her completely.
oOo
The Minister announced her with what Molly considered unnecessary grandeur, but she said nothing, merely sailed into the room with as much grace as her deportment teachers had managed to instill in her. However, she came to an abrupt stop several feet before she had been taught was the proper distance between royalty meeting one another for the first time, and openly stared as the prince turned to face her. "Oh!"
He paused mid-bow, straightened up and raised an eyebrow. "Problem, Your Highness?"
Molly blushed. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to stare. It's just that, your portraits don't do you justice."
He looked her up and down coldly, then turned dismissively. "Yours do," he tossed over his shoulder as he strode towards the door. "A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness, I look forward to our impending nuptials, do give my best to your parents as I will be returning immediately to my own kingdom." He spoke flatly, without inflection, causing a hot flush to suffuse Molly's features.
Forgetting protocol or any of her training, she scampered after him, stopping with her back to the door just as he reached for the handles. Lifting her chin, she said, "I was given to understand you would be remaining here until -"
"I haven't got the patience for silly, fluttery females," he interrupted her with a growl. "I was told you were educated and interested in the sciences" He sneered down his long, aristocratic nose at her. "All I can believe, madame, is that I was deliberately misinformed in order to make me more compliant with our marriage. Much joy may such subterfuge bring us both."
Molly gaped up at him, momentarily speechless. His sneer deepened. "What, nothing to say? No simpering or tears at my beastly behavior?"
"I don't cry just because someone is rude," Molly found her voice to snap back just as he started to turn away from her again. "As for simpering, well, I'm afraid you'll not get any more of that from me! I only simper when I'm caught unawares by my future husband's good looks. And I'm only ever speechless when he treats me like, like dirt beneath his feet before he's spent more than five minutes in my presence!"
Straightening her back, she looked haughtily down her nose at him, as best she could considering the marked difference in their heights. "As for being scientifically minded, well, apparently you fail to understand that first impressions are often incorrect! The scientific method requires rigorous experimentation and a repetition of results before conclusions can be reached! If you don't even know those basics, then I question your so-called 'scientific mind' as well! Good day to you, sir!"
And with a movement very like a flounce, she whirled around, preparing to march off to her private chambers for a good cry. In private. Which was the only place she ever allowed herself to cry, the few times she'd ever given into such girlish behavior since reaching her majority.
To her surprise and indignation, she felt a large hand catch hold of her arm and spin her back around so she was once again facing her betrothed. Instead of the cold indifference or sneering dismissiveness of his earlier expressions, he now wore a look of interest and - dare she say it? - approval on his face.
"Perhaps," he said, somewhat diffidently, "I was hasty in my assumptions. You are correct; one mustn't draw such conclusions without first ensuring one's methods and results are accurate through…rigid repetition."
There was something very much like a twinkle in his eyes as he purred that last to her, something she would have to discuss with Lady Mary at the first opportunity. She had a suspicion his words held a double meaning she was worldly enough to recognize but too innocent to fully comprehend.
"Perhaps," he continued, "you would be agreeable to spending some time in your laboratory, that we might better study one another's methods?"
"And perhaps get to know one another a little better before the wedding?" Molly suggested with a slight smile.
He smiled, and his face was once again transformed to a delightful degree, this time showing an impish boyishness she very much appreciated. "As you say," he conceded, offering her his arm. "Very well, Princess Molly, shall we begin?"
With a nod and a (very belated) curtsey, Molly accepted his arm and led him to her personal laboratory, and what would eventually become a very agreeable future together.
("Yes, Molly, I do believe he was making a sly reference to his, erm, truncheon," Lady Mary agreed when next they saw one another. "Perhaps at your next meeting you could ask him how long it might take for him to fill your beaker? I'll wager he won't be expecting that!")
(He wasn't. It was a great pleasure to see his own complexion go a bit pink at Molly's demure question.)