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Takayuki peers forlornly into the night, watching the distant fires of refugees camped from their gates to the edge of the forest.Their fires flicker with the wind and what he can assume is his people passing by. It’s a deceptively peaceful night. The moon shines bright, the center piece of the galaxy glowing behind it. The breeze is warm and comforting though it does nought but chill the cold sweats wracking his body.
Tomorrow the war ends. Tomorrow their enemy will stroll through their gates thrown open in welcome. Tomorrow Takayuki meets his betrothed, marries and leaves his home likely never to return. Tomorrow, he thinks, the world is going to end.
#
Oga Tatsumi just had to be handsome.
Their father’s shake hands, introduce their princes and move on into the dinning hall chatting like old friends. The Oga’s people pass them by, pinning him with judging glares and disapproving mutters. No muscles, no weapons, too pretty.
Not a savage.
Takayuki gives them passing glances, memorising faces and voices and weapons so he knows who will be a danger to him. Tatsumi doesn’t spare them, or Takayuki’s own people, so much as a thought it seems. Eyes glued to him until their eyes finally meet and his dart away, his tan flesh reddening just so. He presents his arm to Takayuki and for the sake of not getting himself and his people murdered in their beds, Takayuki takes it and leads Tatsumi inside.
They’ve been seated together at the head of the room on a table all their own. Separated from both their people. It’s somewhat secluded, the only small mercy of this entire day, and covered in Takayuki’s favourite foods. There’s a servant near by waiting only on them, watching them not interact. Takayuki with his stone demeanour and Tatsumi awkward and unsure how to so much as hold the cutlery according to Takayuki’s long learned etiquette, or perhaps too nervous to remember.
He doesn’t deign to help however. Prefers to let him stew in what he hopes is his perceived judgement. Who wants to use a knife and fork to eat a chicken leg anyway? No one, but that’s what he does. Prim and proper in a way he’s never once been before. He sees the offended looks of his tutor and makes a point of poking his tongue out at him when he thinks nobody else can see, relishing in the man’s ever suffering frustration.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Hm?’ Takayuki looks between them, a thousand answers bolting through his head, he swallows back ‘his lover’ and tells the truth not wanting any perceived competition incase death comes upon them, ‘only my tutor.’
‘Ah, are you stupid?’
Takayuki freezes, Tatsumi stiffens and turns sharply, sensing his offence but not the cup of wine before he knocks it off the table. He catches it before it can bang against the floor but the contents splatter up the side of Takayuki’s finest silk outfit, light grey and flowing and his favourite of the less colourful collection set aside for political events.
It is a lovely colour, he notes.
‘Shit, sorry I-’
‘Your royal highness, please accompany-’
Takayuki silences the servant with a raised hand who silenced Tatsumi by sharply cutting him off.
‘It’s fine, nobody has noticed and I’ll be changing into my wedding robes after the meal anyway. Return to your post.’
‘Savage,’ the servant mutters, giving Tatsumi a dirty look. Before he can leave, however, Takayuki swings him around by his arm.
‘What was that?’
The servant won’t meet his piercing gaze but clicks his tongue disrespectfully.
‘Apologise,’ he orders, and the servant does meet his eyes now. Outraged on both their behalf.
‘He-’
‘Will be a Prince of this nation by marriage in about three hours, and if not we will all likely die bloody deaths. Do you want to be the reason your kids don’t live to adulthood?’
The servants fist clenches so tightly his arm shakes, but he swallows his pride after a moment and gives a small bow in Tatsumi’s vague direction.
‘My apologies,’ it couldn’t have been more insincere if the servant had called him a Savage once more but Tatsumi waved him off.
‘Your fine. Go back to your post,’ Takayuki gives him a look but Tatsumi shrugs so he lets the servant go, ‘actually, get your prince a new cloak at least.’
‘Wine never hurt anybody, I’m sure I can live in soiled clothes for another hour.’
The look Tatsumi gives him makes him slightly offended. As though his entire view of Takayuki has been rewritten, he wonders what stories they tell of him in their war camps for the shock in his eyes to be so strong. He won’t ask though, won’t engage any more than he has to to make it through the days ahead.
‘Oh,’ is all he says, and they return to an even heavier awkward silence.
#
Takayuki walks the aisle alone draped in black silk head to toe. A net veil shields his face, pockmarked with little pearls. His high and fitted collar flows into the open back of his coat bordered by intricate lace, the train heavy and shimmering with every step of his slim trousered legs and mirror shined boots.
Tatsumi awaits him at the alter, similarly coloured but where Takayuki’s clothes were soft, thin and elegant, his were stiff, thick and somewhat more functional as though he were still prepared for a fight to break out. His knee length coat was detailed with a rubber filigree polished to perfection, he didn’t doubt that even though the design was visible the layer of protection it still provided was decent enough for any weapon someone was able to smuggle into the wedding — who’s security all but strip searched every attendee.
His boots were those Takayuki recognised from their first alliance summit, fresh off the battlefield and bloodied though they’d been. A very fitted leather vest and a simple shirt underneath. Simple, yet still pleasing on the eye.
They stood side by side, just far enough that their shoulders wouldn’t touch and dutifully listened to the priest recite his blessings, ask for vows Takayuki knew were insincere and finally, gave them permission to seal their marriage in a kiss.
Fuck him for being so gentle, he thinks. He feels the heat blazing off Oga’s hands as he bends the veil out of his way, can’t help but to turn into the gentle touch tilting his head the slightest bit back so their lips can meet.
Their kiss is soft and warm, shy even and Tatsumi is soon pulling back and resettling his veil over shining lips. The urge to kick his husband in the shins and storm away rankles his very core.
‘If you touch me after today I will cut off your cock.’
The threat throws Tatsumi off completely, his expression unable to maintain the stately persona he’d adopted for the whole affair, his alarm widening his eyes and making his body sway away as though to give him space.
‘I know we’ve got a reputation but we don’t beat our spouses no matter the reason we got married.’
‘I was talking about sex, idiot.’
Tatsumi’s face blazes and Takayuki looks away to hide his smirk.
Maybe… Maybe, this will be a little bit fun.