A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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"THAT'S HIM? Aren asked with a hint of incredulity as Soren and his brother walked the aisle. "That's going to be your consort?"
Raffe turned to his cousin and found him staring at him like he was figuring out a hard puzzle.
"Yes. Why are you giving me that look?" he asked. Aren hadn't had the opportunity to see Soren since his return from Essem, where he had served as a village priest for about a year.
"I'm trying to figure out why our cousins said you're being whiny when the betrothal was announced," Aren replied with furrowed brows.
"You and I remembered that event differently. I did not whine." He narrowed his eyes. "Now, stop giving me that look and do your job so we can finish this early."
Ignoring him, Aren whispered, "You must be crazy when you hesitated to marry someone that pretty."
"He wasn't that pretty before," Raffe retorted. "He was a snotty brat when we were kids. And stop staring at him."
There was a pause, and then Aren said, "I'm a priest." Raffe didn't need to look at his cousin to know that he was fighting a smile. "You're unbelievable. I just looked at him for two minutes and you're being snappy at me? Have you ever thought about his suitors left in Harken before he came to the palace?"
He ignored every last bit of that statement knowing that if he delved too deep into the thought of other suitors in Harken, it would just dampen his mood. He huffed and focused on the approaching faie who looked like he was crafted from snow, beautiful and ethereal in all the white of his clothing and the sapphires adoring his hair, walking towards the podium with an almost shy smile.
Soren stopped in front of them. He kissed his brother's cheek and finally went up the steps, clutching the hand that Raffe offered.
"Are you alright?" Raffe whispered. "You look nervous."
"This is all your damn fault." Soren squeezed his hand a little bit tight just enough to inflict pain. "The next time you decide something like this while I'm unprepared, I'm gonna throw your carcass in the ocean." He narrowed his eyes. "I am not kidding."
Raffe gave him the look. "I just realized I love seeing you flustered."
He received a withering glare. And Raffe hid his grin by kissing the back of Soren's hand.
A throat clearing interrupted them and they both looked up to see his cousin motioning them forward. Raffe didn't release Soren's hand, the sensation and warmth of their skin touching was a unique kind of pleasure he hadn't realized he needed until now. They moved to their positions and Aren began reciting the prayers and the empire's past marriages, its virtues, and other stuff.
The ceremony lasted for an hour and a half before they withdrew to the grand hall, where a gathering of around a hundred nobles and high-ranking officers of the imperial army awaited, alongside a sumptuous banquet.
