Chapter Text
The worst day of Laios Touden’s life was February 16th, 517.
He knelt at the throne that he could once call his, his head bowed in shame and his left hand placed flat on the seat. A ring of advisors formed a semicircle around him, backlit by dim torches mounted on distant walls and looming like great boulders.
“You are a disgrace to this kingdom,” said one.
“Your perversions have shamed us all,” said another.
“Your reign of incompetency is ending now.”
“We will call ourselves blessed for every day we are free from you.”
Laios steeled himself as their words ran through his blood, into his heart. He gripped his right hand fiercely against his knee, breathing slowly. He knew this was coming. He had accepted it. They’re right. I should never have been king. He could feel Yaad’s disappointed eyes on him, standing by a pillar behind him.
“Your behaviour is nothing but a leech upon this court.”
“Consider what you leave as the only useful part of yourself.”
Laios stayed focussed on showing no weakness. He pictured Kabru in his mind, right behind his eyes. He repeated to himself the words Kabru had written him. He imagined Falin giving him a hug. He thought of his old party, the best friends he’d ever had. He hoped they would forgive him.
“You shall pay a lenient price for the havoc you have caused,” said his least favourite of the advisors, Jael, who looked too much like his father. “Who do you choose to carry out this act?”
“Yaad,” Laios replied without hesitation, trying his best to hide any fear in his voice.
Yaad sighed from across the room and picked up a small, sharp axe from Jael. He arrived at Laios’ side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know I don’t want to do this, son.”
Laios bowed his head slightly farther. He moved his left hand to the edge of the seat, where a wooden piece had been laid on stabilizing supports. He adjusted to leave only his ring finger flat on the surface, the rest tucked below.
“Mithrun,” Yaad called sombrely. The elf arrived at Laios’ other side, holding the finger of a gargoyle. It was the only option they could find on short notice. A leftover washed up with the ruins from when Laios had slayed it. When he was still a hero.
“You may now confirm your sacrifice,” continued Jael.
Laios knew he had no option about what to say. He had been forced to practice his lines a dozen times that morning, an all-too familiar ritual for him, now. One he could finally leave behind. “I will give my ring finger as continued protection for this kingdom, and as a representation of my failure to lead it.”
Laios could hear Jael’s smile. “And so it is done. Yaad, are you ready?”
He sighed, again. “Yes, Jael.”
“Then you may proceed.”
The worst part, for Laios, was the seconds of waiting for the axe to swing down.
He registered himself briefly crying out, his untouched hand clenching his abdomen as he fell to the ground and blood spilled over him and the throne, but the pain was almost a relief. I’m free from it.
Mithrun grabbed his hand firmly. “Stay still,” he ordered. Laios’ knuckle flared with pain as Mithrun touched the wound and the gargoyle finger attached itself to him. He felt like he was watching his body from the ceiling; he thought about how he couldn’t wait to be a ghost. “Good,” Mithrun muttered, “You did well.” He stood up and took a step back from Laios.
He could hear movement as the advisors placed his finger in an enchanted jar to protect the kingdom from monsters in his absence. He didn’t know where they would keep it.
Yaad, despite his age, crouched down and put his hand back on Laios’ shoulder, squeezing it. He bent over Laios’ body, still clenched in pain, feeling Laios shake as he stifled his cries. “Remember what we spoke of,” he muttered. “You will persist, Laios.” Yaad stayed hovering over him, providing the only small protection he was able to, for what felt like an eternity as Laios waited for the pain to subside. Humiliation cemented in his bones as this court of men who were smarter than Laios, more capable than him, more strategic than him, stronger than him, watched him curled up in defeat, tears running down his face.
It was so much worse than when he’d sacrificed his leg to defeat the red dragon. Then he had been a hero; now he was the one defeated. He was a failure.
As soon as his breathing steadied, Jael spoke again. He was standing, tall and proud, at Laios’ feet. “You may leave, and you may not return. You will tell no one where you are. You will let yourself be seen by no one but Mithrun.”
Laios did not stand. He didn’t feel able.
“You may leave, Laios.”
He stilled, holding his breath for a moment, and Yaad squeezed his shoulder as he helped him up.
“Your sword and belongings.” An advisor approached to hand him his things, contempt clear on his face. Yaad helped him get his scabbard and backpack on. Mithrun returned to Laios’ side.
“Take my hand,” he said, monotone, and both of Laios’ arms tremored. “We will be transported as soon as you touch me.” He moved his right hand above Mithrun’s and faltered for a moment, letting it hover, taking one last glance around this glorious room that once was his. He thought back to when it had life.
The best day of Laios Touden’s life was August 8th, 516.
Laughter and conversation filled the castle grounds, from the throne room to the dining hall and all through the courtyard, pavilion, and gardens. Flowers of all colours of the rainbow adorned the walls, the outdoor columns, the tables and the plant beds. The sky was clear save for the occasional cumulus cloud, soft as Barometz wool, and the gentle breeze smelled like lilacs. Lavish displays of beautifully prepared food were being enjoyed, and around each corner Laios seemed to bump into a friend, a kind townsperson, an old acquaintance.
And most importantly, Laios’ favourite people in the world were getting married.
Laios almost cried when he first saw Falin that morning. She had a flowing, low-cut jumper that matched the colour of her feathers, which she had out on display. Her hair was in a small bun neatly tied with half of her hair, the other half brushed down and soft. She wore a pink azalea flower behind her ear and a simple gold chain her mother had given her.
“I love the feathers!” Laios exclaimed. “It would look even cooler if you took any that fell off and attached them onto the sleeves.” Falin smiled and hugged him.
“I’m so happy, Laios.” Laios hugged her back. “I’m really going to miss you.”
“We can talk about that later,” he said as he pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. “For now, I just want to see you have fun.”
Falin looked sheepish. “There are so many people, I’m nervous.”
“I know. But it means a lot to the townsfolk, having a big royal wedding to enjoy.” Laios paused. “Who knows if they’ll get another one,” he tried to joke, the words of his advisors still nagging on his mind.
Falin paused to word her reply. “You really don’t think you’ll ever get married, Laios?” she asked, sheepishly. “I want to see you be happy.”
Laios sighed. He had a perfect excuse to avoid this conversation. “Again, we can talk about that later.”
Falin decided to drop it. “I hope I don’t mess anything up,” she said, nervously. “I hope I don’t speak too quietly.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Laios comforted her, putting on his best big-brother voice. “All that matters is you and Marcille.”
“Has anyone… has anyone said anything?” she asked, still looking embarrassed. She saw Laios’ confusion and continued, “About me and Marcille. I know the court wasn’t happy about you… changing things for us.”
Laios rolled his eyes. Every moment spent thinking about those old geezers was a moment wasted; he didn’t want them to keep ruining her day, which seemed to be their only mission. “Those are the last people you should be thinking about. They have less brains than a slime, and they have no say in my sister being able to get married.” He paused. “And think about all the other people like you who can be themselves more now. That’s important. This is helping people.”
Falin blushed, biting her cheek.
“Hey,” he continued, worried she still was feeling uncertain. “I love you, Falin.”
“I love you too.”
Their mother knocked on the door and entered the bridal room. “It’s almost time,” she said, nervousness in her voice. “Everyone’s just sitting down.” She started making her way towards Falin, and Laios went to stand by the door, stepping out to peek at the crowd. He wondered how Kabru was doing – he imagined Marcille having some last-minute anxiety attack about her dress and needing calming down. He knew Kabru would know the perfect thing to say to help. He wished Kabru was around to calm him down.
Away from Falin and the energy of the crowd, the worry that he’d been suppressing started to resurface. It was his damned advisors; Laios wished he could petrify each of them, they’d be of more use that way. They had been furious and Laios’ decision to permit Falin and Marcille’s wedding; they called it an abomination and that it would make them the laughingstock of the continent. He had avoided telling either of them about it, because it was the last thing he’d wanted them to be thinking about on their wedding day. But he saw the derisive looks, he heard them muttering to each other in the lead-up to the big day, and he was just hoping that Marcille and Falin wouldn’t notice during the party.
He thought back to what Kabru had said, after Laios had first suggested the idea, only to be unanimously shot down.
“If I were you, I probably would listen to them,” he’d said, the two of them sitting on a garden bench, watching golden ducklings wading in the shaded pond. “It very well may cause a divide among people, and some lands in particular may find it unnatural.” Laios swallowed, his face heating. “But there’s a reason that you’re king, not me, and not them.” Kabru peeked at Laios. “You’re choosing the path of love; you are being a leader that puts the people who rely on him first. I know you think I know everything,” Kabru paused, “but if I were you right now, I’d just be a coward calling myself smart.”
Laios was frozen. He didn’t know what to make of what Kabru was saying.
“There’s a reason we support you, not them,” he continued. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Laios nodded and told him he was thankful. Kabru placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t forget that you’re more noble than anyone else in that room.”
Laios laughed. “It sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes. They make me feel like such an idiot.”
“The only thing they’re good at is manipulating you,” Kabru said, “and they do that because they want your power.”
“Sometimes I’m scared they deserve it more, that they would do better with it.” It felt like the words were punching him as he said them, but it was relieving to have them in the air at the same time.
“That’s what Falin, Marcille, and I are here for,” Kabru said. “We’ll make sure you remember.”
Laios nodded and pulled Kabru in for a side hug. “I love you guys so much!”
Kabru opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.
The sound of an organ brought Laios back to the present: back to the weighty navy overcoat, fitted tunic, and pants that he couldn’t wait to get out of later. A heavy gold and emerald chain laid around his neck. He missed being able to wear regular clothes out in public. He fixed his posture and almost jumped when he saw Kabru come around the corner.
“Are you ready?” he asked, wearing a sky-blue silk shirt Laios had given him, matching his eyes and embroidered with nature motifs in golden thread. He has such a pretty smile, Laios thought, and blue eyes twinkled back at him.
“Very ready,” Laios sighed in relief. “I’m so excited to not be the one giving the speech for once.”
Kabru smiled at him, and they made their way down to the altar, to the spots for the best men. He kept looking at him, charming and so pretty, graceful as a Pegasus, as the room prepared for the main event.
Falin joined them first; Laios had protested over their father bringing her down the aisle, wanting to walk her himself, but she’d insisted. She smiled at them when she reached the end, and then stopped when the doors reopened.
Marcille looked so beautiful. More beautiful than a minotaur, Laios thought.
Her hair was perfect, shiny without a single strand out of place. Two simple, flat braids ringed her face, with white lace ribbon woven into them. Two more locks met at the back of her head, tied with a quaint bow. A thin, sparkling necklace sat high on her chest. It had a small locket at the centre in the shape of a heart, and inside was a sketch of her father. The necklace accentuated the shoulderless cut of her lace dress, which trailed after her like water. She held a bouquet of pink and white flowers that matched the one in Falin’s hair.
Her mother and her made their way down the aisle, hand-in-hand, equally poised and elegant.
The ceremony made Laios cry. He didn’t care who saw it.
“I promise that you’ll never be alone again,” Laios remembered Marcille saying, already teary-eyed. “You are the most loving, kind, magical person I’ve ever known. You treat everything and everyone around you with dignity and gentleness. You’ve shown me whole new worlds, and you keep making my world bigger and brighter every day that I know you. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to know you and to love you.” Marcille paused to breathe. “There is no one in this life I would rather have by my side, and I will see that for the rest of your days, you’ll never be without a companion again.” She wiped her eyes, and Kabru handed her his handkerchief.
“Marcille,” Falin started, her voice just loud enough for the wedding party and first row to hear. She looked at her like they were the only two people in the room. “I can divide my life so easily into the time before I knew you and the time after I met you.” She spoke slowly, gently. “In the village, at the magic school – no one but my brother ever wanted to be around me. I thought I was okay with that and with being alone, until I met you. You saw me for who I was, and you always loved me for it. You could have been anything – done anything – you’re just so incredible like that, and yet, you choose over and over to spend time by my side. I promise to always love you and take care of you. And I promise to take care of myself so that I can spend as much time in this life with you as I can. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”
By the time the ceremony was done, anyone who knew them, and many who didn’t, were tearing up alongside them. When they kissed, the moment was so full of joy it almost hurt; the band swelled to match the feeling of the room, and Laios felt his heart about to burst with pride. No matter what happened to him, he wanted to make sure for the rest of his life that they were happy, too.
Then the party began, and in the life at the center of the floor, any worries about old men in the shadows melted away with the music, the drinks, the dancing and the love. Laios knew he wasn’t the best dancer, but he couldn’t care less; he did an uncoordinated jig with Chilchuck, whose fast feet put him to shame. Namari even let him take her for a spin during one of the slow dances, though she almost left when he kept stepping on her feet; he kept getting distracted by Kabru twirling with some refined young lady from the village. Every time he looked over those piercing eyes seemed ready to meet his.
The party went through the night, and Laios couldn’t find an end to his own happiness. Senshi had led a team through dungeons outside of Melini leading up to the event, so among the regular feasting food, there were an assortment of monster dishes to enjoy: braised hippogriff meat, pasta with cuts of huge scorpion, a variety of delicately prepared pastries with slime. He smiled when they were some of the first dishes to be cleared off, towards the end of the night, glad for the fact that people of the kingdom could partake in his favourite cuisine.
And then there was Kabru.
As the night wore on and the noise seemed never-ending, he found Laios snacking on his third slime petit-four at the back entrance to the castle, where the gardens beyond were sparsely populated. “I’m surprised to not see you dancing,” he greeted, hands tucked behind his back.
Laios rubbed the back of his head with a laugh. “If I dance much more, my feet might fall off!”
They stood in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company and the faded sound of the party. Last they’d heard, Falin and Marcille were canoodling in a bush, Chilchuck was crying that his daughters may never let him walk them down the aisle, Izutsumi was biting people, and Senshi was crafting elaborate drinks for anyone who joined him at the bar.
“You were a wonderful brother today,” Kabru said. “Falin’s very lucky to have you.”
“You were too, to Marcille,” Laios answered.
“I’m not her brother.”
“I mean – friend,” Laios corrected. “You know what I mean.”
Kabru smiled at him, then fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt. “I do.”
They paused for another moment. “The ceremony was so beautiful,” Laios said.
“You really cried.”
“And you can’t make me feel bad about it!”
“I wasn’t trying to. It was sweet.” Kabru was still fiddling with his sleeve and took a breath before continuing. “I wonder if we might ever find ourselves up there again.”
Laios looked at him, confused. “I mean, of course! Won’t I be one of your groomsmen?” he grinned, nervously.
Kabru let out a small sigh, not answering Laios for a while. “Maybe.”
Laios looked at him, hurt. “Just a maybe?”
Kabru, finally, met his eyes. “Of course,” he whispered, and Laios sighed in relief.
“You had me going for a moment there.”
“I deeply apologize, your highness.”
“I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“Noted, your highness.”
Laios took Kabru’s wrist. “I said don’t call me that!” he laughed, getting up in Kabru’s face, knowing his ways of teasing.
Their faces were so close, and Kabru’s gaze softened when he looked at Laios. He cleared his throat and removed his wrist from Laios’ grip.
“We should probably get back to the party,” he said.
Laios, unsure of what had just happened and too happy to dwell on it, smiled back at him. “Only if you’ll join me.”
If there was one night Laios wished he could never leave, it would be that one. After it, everything started to fall apart.
The following afternoon, everyone hungover and exhausted, Laios had to say goodbye to Marcille and his sister.
He’d known it was coming – he’d changed the law so it could happen. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.
“How long will you be gone for, again?” Chilchuck asked Falin, while Marcille anxiously followed castle personnel around as they moved her various pieces of luggage to their travel carriage.
Laios winced before Falin even answered. “Two, maybe three years,” she answered. “Which is actually pretty short for an elf honeymoon.”
Chilchuck raised his eyebrows and looked to Laios. “And you’re okay with that?” he asked, not specifying who he was referring to.
Falin bowed her head. “It was my idea, actually,” she mumbled, still ashamed of this, no matter how many times Laios insisted it was okay.
The story went like this:
After Falin rejected Shuro, for the second time, a year and a bit after the coronation, she made it clear that she wanted to explore the world, see everything it had to offer. Laios understood this, and as much as it pained him, he wanted her to live her fullest life. He also worried about Falin, and her penchant for getting herself into trouble for the sake of adventure, much like himself.
He also knew that Marcille cared about Falin very much.
“I don’t know if I can stand to be away from her again,” she’d cried to him and Kabru the evening of the failed proposal, early last fall. They were in one of the many sitting rooms of the castle. She had her legs curled up to her chest on the couch. “I’m so worried she won’t come back. Or if she does, she won’t come back to me. I can’t lose her again.”
“What if –” Laios said, nervous but knowing what he had to do, “you went with her?”
Marcille looked up at him, shocked. “What?”
Laios repeated his idea.
“I can’t do that,” she said. “I promised to help support you here. It’s hardly been a year. I couldn’t do that to you.”
Laios felt his heartbeat in his chest as he prepared for what he had to say. “And I couldn’t live with myself knowing that you’re sacrificing your happiness for mine.”
Marcille looked at him in shock, mind spinning with how to argue against him. “This goes beyond you. It’s about the kingdom. I’m a part of it too, now. And you need me here.”
“Of course I want you here,” Laios said, “But I think it’ll be okay. I have Kabru.” He looked to his friend, and Kabru blushed.
“It’s too soon,” she said.
“It’s not tomorrow, and Falin’s waited her whole life for this.”
“We’ll be gone too long,” she said.
“How long?”
She pondered the question for a moment. “She – she wants to see a lot,” she started. “The places she wants to go… it could take a couple years.”
Laios couldn’t pretend to not be shocked by this. Falin’s previous trips had been two weeks to a couple months. When he first suggested it, he’d thought – well, he hadn’t really thought at all.
But he didn’t want to backtrack, now. The whole point was that it was their lives.
“I can manage,” he said, trying not to betray any doubt. “Again, I’ve got Kabru.”
Marcille moved her legs down to stare at her feet, processing. “I can’t say yes to that yet,” she said. “I need to think about it.”
“Okay. But please do think about it.”
She nodded and left the room to think.
Kabru waited for the door to close and her steps to disappear down the hall before he spoke. “Are you really sure about this?”
Laios let his fears surface. “I’m… not. I didn’t realize how long it would be. But I can’t deny them living the life they want.”
“Why don’t you ask Falin to wait a few more years to leave?”
“She’s waited so long for us,” Laios said. “The last time she did, we failed her.” He let his words hang in the air. “She’s lived for me for too long. There will always be something going on in this kingdom, and it’s nothing that needs to bother her anyway. And,” Laios turned to look at Kabru, daring to smile, “again, I have you.”
Kabru looked at him, his expression unreadable. “You trust me that much?”
“I do.” He paused. “You won’t leave me, right?” He said it like a joke, but they both knew there was a truth to it.
Kabru thought through his words carefully before answering. “I can’t promise to fix everything, but I am here for you, however I can be. I’m… loyal to you.”
Laios thanked him, meaning it genuinely. “Can we talk about something else now?”
Kabru laughed, once. “I’d be happy to.”
In the throne room, Laios blinked back a tear as he took Mithrun’s hand.
He felt a rush as his body teleported. His vision went blank and his ears popped. A wave of dizziness overtook him, and he stumbled forward, feet landing on snow and frozen soil. He dropped Mithrun’s hand.
He panted, hunched over, until he felt able to open his eyes. When he did, he found huge, rolling hills, covered in a layer of perfect snow. The outer edge of the one they were standing on was lined with old wooden fence. The bay twinkled in the distance, about a thirty minutes’ walk. At the top of the hill was a sun-bleached stone cottage, two stories high, with a thatched roof and a garden. A couple of small, stone farm buildings, and a larger wooden barn, were sprinkled around the acres the cottage watched over. A heard of goats meandered on the hill, and poking out behind the cottage, Laios saw a coop.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In the countryside off of Kahka Brud.” Mithrun paused. “If you look to the north, you can just see the edge of Melini.” Mithrun pointed to the south-west, which Laios pointed out, and Mithrun grumbled.
“Are we staying in that cottage?” Laios asked.
Mithrun nodded his head. I guess I can deal with that, Laios thought. It’s better than prison.
Mithrun seemed ready to stand and stare indefinitely at the cottage from their spot at the bottom of the hill. “Let’s go in,” Laios said, remembering what Yaad had tasked him with: taking care of Mithrun so his usual keeper could have a much-needed break out west.
The caretaker elf, the one with the fluffy blonde hair – Laios couldn’t remember her name – almost jumped with joy when she saw them. “You’re here! Finally!” She pulled Mithrun’s cape off and checked over his arms for any sign of injury. Laios asked where to put his things, and she guided him upstairs, to her usual bedroom, now about to be his. She’d moved most of her things into a box – he saw a beat-up notebook, the neckpiece of her old Canaries uniform, and a smoking pipe poking out. The room was just as barren as his king’s chambers were forced to be.
It had a bit of a draft, and Laios saw a small fireplace on the side. There was an elf-sized twin bed with a quaint frame made of dark wood, a nightstand, an empty worn-out dresser, and a writing desk beneath the window, which looked out onto the bay. From here, Laios had a better view of the coast, and could just see the red top of the main castle spire of the Golden Kingdom. The distance felt like a punch to his gut, and the shock from the day start to hit him. He wrapped his arm around himself, the pain in his still-bloody hand beginning again to throb, and he leaned his head against the window as he tried not to cry.
He hadn’t been outside the castle grounds in almost six months – and now it was so far away he could hardly see it. He held up his good hand against the glass.
“I know how it feels,” Fleki said from behind him, not too gentle, but not mean. “Mithrun does too, you know.”
Laios took a moment to answer, still staring at the tiny view of his home. “I didn’t murder anyone. I didn’t commit a crime,” he mumbled. “I lost my kingdom because I’m weak.”
She sighed like she was bored, and Laios heard her shift. “I’m going to go give Mithrun a meal and a bath. You can take a nap. Try and rest up. I can go over your instructions tomorrow.” Her heard her leave, and after another moment of contemplation, he moved to shut the door and strip down into bed.
A few days after Laios’ talk with Marcille about travelling abroad, she found him in the library, snacking on bread and jam and reading a travel memoir about a Western dungeon.
He looked up to find her standing nervously in the doorway and beckoned her to sit down. “What’s up?”
Marcille paused before speaking. “I’m going to tell you something, and I think it’s going to shock you, but it’s good news.”
Laios look at her questioningly, and she sat down and cleared her throat. “I think I’m going to ask Falin to travel the world with me, like you suggested.”
Laios felt dread in his stomach, which he stuffed down with a smile. “I’ll miss you, but I’m glad.”
“But I need to tell you something else. About why this matters so much to me.” Laios’ ears perked, and Marcille bit at her cheek nervously. She started fiddling with her hair. “I know you’re not always one for relationships and personal stuff,” she started, “but I think it’s important for you to know the way I feel about Falin, and the way I think she feels about me.”
Laios kept watching her; he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
Marcille blushed before she opened her mouth. “Laios, I’m – I’m in love with her.”
Laios choked on his bread.
“Let me explain,” she panicked. She waited for Laios to finish coughing and drink some water before she continued. “With elves, it’s less – strange, for two people to love each other, regardless of gender.” Laios was staring at the table, still reeling. “It was never really a surprise to me. But I know that tallmen have stricter rules for it.”
“I didn’t – I didn’t even, well, think, ever, about that, I didn’t know –”
“That’s okay,” she tried to smile at him. “Do you mind?”
Laios thought about it for a moment, feeling his heart start to still. “Well – no,” he said, thinking out loud. “If you two are happy, then what does it matter?” He thought some more. “I’d love to have you as a sister.”
Marcille seemed surprised at how well he was taking the news. Hesitantly, after giving him another moment to process, she asked, “Do you think Falin would ever want to be a mother?”
“Oh.” Laios thought about it. “I don’t know, maybe. But that’s not really my decision to make. And there are other ways, I guess. Izutsumi is like part of our family, and she’s not related to any of us. And I always thought of Shuro like a brother.” He paused, looking up to the ceiling in thought. “And you can’t have kids anyway, right? But you still deserve someone to love, either way.”
Marcille was slightly off put by his bluntness, but she nodded, understanding what he meant. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way, either,” she whispered, with a small smile.
“Do you think her kids would have feathers?”
A vein in Marcille’s temple popped. “I didn’t think about that either.” They paused, taking in the conversation so far and letting it settle.
Eventually, Laios asked, “Do you think Falin would say yes?”
“Yes to travelling together?”
Laios didn’t hesitate. “Yes to marrying her.”
Marcille flushed crimson. “I mean – Laios, that’s not what I was asking. It’s too soon. And we can’t.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Why not? If you two love each other… it’s just more appropriate if you do.”
“Laios, it’s illegal.” Her expression reminded him of every time he’d solved a bind they’d had in the dungeon with some minor tidbit he knew about monsters: exasperated but impressed.
Laios hummed as he thought again. This really was a pickle. “Can’t I change that, though?”
Marcille kept blushing. “That’s crazy.”
“Why? You said it’s normal for the elves. We’re all still human.”
“Maybe –,” she started, trying to find a way to dissuade Laios, “but marriage is different than a relationship, and this is a kingdom of tallmen, not elves. There are customs.”
Laios groaned. “All I hear about all day are traditions and rules made up by other people,” he huffed. “I’m supposed to be a leader, but all I’m doing is following orders!” He bumped his fist on the table. “I’d rather see my sister married and happy with you than anything else. You deserve to have this part of your lives. I don’t see why I can’t change it.”
Marcille took his hand. She sighed, “You’re too generous, Laios,” and she meant it. “I hope you know that I wasn’t trying to ask for that. I just wanted you to know the truth, before… anything happened.”
Laios paused at her last words. “Has – anything happened?”
Marcille looked away with a blush, and she moved her hand back to her lap. “Enough has.”
Laios blushed back, regretting asking the question. “Forget that I asked,” he mumbled. “Congratulations, though.”
“Don’t say that yet. I haven’t asked about joining her.”
Laios locked eyes with her. “I know how much you mean to Falin,” he said, “Or at least I thought I did. And even then, I could tell you that I know she’d want you by her side.”
Marcille bit her cheek, looking down at the table. “Please tell me you won’t do anything brash. We can just travel as friends.”
But Laios was feeling rebellious enough against the constant suffocation of politics in the court, and he was a spear-heading adventurer at heart. “Consider it my goodbye gift.”
When Laios woke up, the last light of the day was escaping over the horizon, over his kingdom. He watched the faraway flag, so small the red and gold were a single blur, flap gently in the evening breeze from his too-skinny bed. His finger was aching and swollen, and he sighed looking at it, held up in the air against the stone-and-lumber ceiling. He flinched when he tried to touch it. It had only a few details: knuckle creases, a cuticle bed leading into a sharpened nail. With his other hand, he wiped away dried tears left on his eyes. He felt dread in the pit of his stomach.
He’d been dreaming about Kabru: his face scrunched up, betraying himself. Furious, like he’d wanted to smack him. Saying all the awful things he must think about Laios, now. Never speak to me again. Stay away. I hate who you’ve become.
It’s time to move forward, Laios forced himself to think. He squeezed his eyes shut. I can’t change the past. He braced himself as he stood up and made his way downstairs.
Mithrun was sitting at the dining table with the other elf. He was staring into the table – Laios couldn’t tell if he was thinking deeply about something or just idle – while she took a puff from a pipe and read an old novel. She startled when she saw him. “Look who finally woke up! Those guys must have done a number on you.”
That would be an understatement, Laios thought. He thought about retreating back to his room instead of being thrown into whatever the elf had planned for him.
He finished going down the last couple steps and pulled a dining chair away from the table to let himself look outside at the garden. They must have enchanted it – the beds each had four wooden posts sticking out of them, twinkling with mana, and the plants inside were flourishing despite the wintry season. He could see tomatoes, carrots, onion, zucchini, and a small herb bed, with more in the back. On the edges of the garden, he saw what looked like a lemon tree, a plum tree, and a couple others he couldn’t identify from the distance. A couple of ducks waddled around.
“You don’t have to worry about the mana on the plants running out,” said the caretaker elf. “It’s a very durable spell, and Mithrun can always rejuvenate it if needed.” Laios knew he should acknowledge her words, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to bother reacting. She eyed him, annoyed. “You’re almost as silent as Mithrun!”
I’m not usually, Laios thought, still not finding the words.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, until she asked, “Would you like some dinner? We have vegetable sauté left over.”
Laios’ impulse was to say no. The idea of food made him sick. He started to shake his head, then reminded himself of the most important lesson he’d ever learned, one he apparently kept having to relearn. “Okay,” he said, and the elf walked him into the kitchen. It was small, and old, but serviceable. Even if the stone counters were beat-up and the finishings in need of improvement, it looked like there was plenty of pantry space. She found him a plate, and he forced himself to take a full scoop. He picked up the plate with his left hand and dropped it to the ground as soon as it put pressure on his finger, shooting pain searing up his arm.
She watched him in shock as he steadied himself against the counter, face grimaced. She stared at the dark stone coming out of his hand. “That’s pretty gnarly,” she said. “Did you just get that this morning?”
Laios nodded, face still clenched in pain.
“Can you move it?”
“Haven’t really tried yet,” he said, his breathing still strained.
“Hm.” She grabbed a broom and pan from the cupboard and squatted to sweep up the mess. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay to take on responsibility for Mithrun?”
“I don’t know,” he grunted. “I didn’t really sign up for any of this.”
She glared at him, less casual than before. “Well, you better be, because my boat leaves tomorrow. And I know you think losing a finger is bad,” she stood up to dispose of the broken plate and food, “but if you fail Mithrun, we’ll kill you.”
She stopped to stare directly at Laios while she said this, and Laios knew she meant it.
“What’s your name, again?” he asked.
A vein in her temple popped. “Fleki.”
“Okay, Fleki,” he sighed, finally regaining his composure. “That’s starting to not sound so bad.”
Her expression flared, and she got right up in his face, pointing a sharp nail into his chest. “I don’t care what you did, or how much of a fuckup you think you are,” she hissed. “But we already have one miserable wretch in here, and it is your job to keep him from harm. You are not allowed to think that way here. Leave your regrets and self-pities at the door.”
Laios couldn’t help but feel that her words were nothing compared the ones he’d been hearing for months. “Whatever you say,” he sighed, and she got him another plate. He tried not to sour his face. The vegetables looked limp and dull, and he missed the food from the royal court, and even more, he missed the meals he’d made with his friends.
At the dinner table, Laios ate almost as slowly as Mithrun, who was being hand-fed, bite by bite. Laios poked at the vegetables, occasionally eating one and feeling like he was digesting sand. Each piece of food weighed in his stomach like the stone of his gargoyle finger. But he kept eating.
After several minutes, Fleki broke the silence. “You two sure will have a lot to talk about,” she said sarcastically. Neither of them answered.
When they finished eating, the quiet felt infinite, and the world was dark save for the candle they had burning on the table. After wiping Mithrun’s face, Fleki rose to clear off the table, and she barked at Laios to sit back down when he stood up to help her. “I don’t want any more broken plates,” she said. “You can ask Mithrun to try some healing magic on you.”
“I’m not very good,” Mithrun said to Laios from across the table.
Laios reached his hand across to show him the red, swollen mess at his knuckle. “Anything would help at this point,” he said. “It’s hard to focus on anything else.”
Mithrun picked up his hand to inspect it. “My fusion was clean,” he muttered, “but the wound hasn’t healed yet. You should probably lie down if I heal this, or you might collapse.”
Laios nodded, and they moved to the couch in the living room. It was made of brown leather, with lumpy down flattened inside. Laios didn’t want to guess how old it was.
Mithrun didn’t give him any warning before working his healing spell, and Laios cried out in pain when he did.
“I forgot how weak tallmen are,” Mithrun mumbled as Laios gripped his hand in agony for the second time that day, though he could feel that something had shifted in place this time around. “I haven’t been around one much since Kabru.”
Laios choked on his own breath, heart in his throat. He didn’t know how much Mithrun knew. He wasn’t ready to ask, or even say Kabru’s name out loud, so he refrained from saying anything back. Mithrun didn’t seem to notice.
Fleki returned from the kitchen. She leaned in the entrance to the living room and huffed, “I don’t know if he’s strong enough to take care of you yet.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mithrun replied. “Both of us could use the break.”
Fleki glared at him, not wanting to point out his subtle insult. Laios steadied his breath, and managed to move his finger, slowly, back and forth, curling the knuckle in and out. It itched horribly – worse than Marcille’s healing had – but he could feel his nerves connecting and accepting this new part of himself.
“Um,” Laios asked from the couch, “how long, roughly, will you be away?”
Fleki laughed. “I’ve got a lot of friends to visit in the West, before being tied back here for who knows how long again. I’ll probably just come back when you’re dead.”
Laios’ stomach dropped, and he gulped. Had Yaad known this when he sent him here? The conversation they’d had… he’d made it sound – how did he make it sound?
“They want to kill you,” Yaad had said, in his dark office, after they’d told the council about the – developments. “That or lock you away.”
Laios was sitting at his desk, head bowed, as it was perpetually by that point.
“I don’t think there’s a way out of it this. I can’t help you enough.” Yaad paused. Half of his face was illuminated by a candle on his desk, one that was burning low. “I will always see you as the rightful king of this land. But you aren’t – you aren’t in the right place, Laios. You aren’t capable in your state.”
Laios tried not to argue or cry. He knew it was true. Yaad had been the last person to still believe in him, and he’d lost it, the same way he’d lost Kabru.
“It’s not just about Kabru,” Yaad said, knowing what he was thinking. “He was the symptom, not the cause, Laios. You no longer believe in yourself. You no longer believe you can be king, and you act as such.”
Laios shuddered, feeling a resurgence of the heavy pain in his chest that hadn’t left him in weeks.
“I think I have a solution that is not ideal but could provide respite.” Laios’ ears perked up at him. “I presume you remember the former head of the Canaries, Mithrun.” Laios nodded. “His usual caretaker wishes to return to the West, for a time. They would be willing for you to take her place. He lives not far from the kingdom. I believe he may have valuable insights for you.” Laios nodded, feeling relief, somehow, that maybe Yaad still believed in him, however little that was. “Whether you are able to use that time to reclaim your place here lies solely with you.” Laios nodded.
Laios reopened his eyes, looking at Mithrun, who was watching him with disinterest, still on the couch. “You can get up now,” he said.
“It’s time to go to bed,” Fleki added. “For both of you. I have a lot of instructions to give out tomorrow, and I need the couch for tonight.”
Laios nodded and wearily pulled himself up to bed. As he blew out his candle and tried to rest his mind, his thoughts turned to Kabru, and his chest ached. He tried thinking about Marcille and Falin instead, who must be ignorant to the past six months and hopefully, for once, enjoying their life without his burden. Riding unicorns. Climbing mountains. He had to stop that train of thought when it kept turning into how disappointed they’d be to see him now, if they still wanted to see him after everything he’d lost.
All I do is lose, he thought, forcing his eyes to stay shut until he drifted off. All I do is lose.
Laios was in his royal dress – burgundy tunic with belled shoulders, his wolfskin, and straight brown leather pants, all immaculately maintained. The outfit was new to him, too light and vulnerable compared to the armor he was so used to, the armor that was now stored away in a box in his closet. Kabru was smoothing out the shoulders of his fur. He kept looking over him nervously, looking for something out of place. It was the first time Kabru was involved in something this important, too. They were outside the throne room, in the small hallway leading to the raised platform with the king’s throne. In a few steps, Laios would be greeted by the top representatives of one of the most important emperors from the East, as a first meeting between them and Melini.
“You’re going to do great,” Kabru finally said, looking up at Laios, trying to convince himself as much as he was Laios. He moved a step back and started rubbing at his wrist nervously.
Laios readied his brave, fearless leadership voice. “We practiced for this.” His voice cracked on the last syllable, comedic in its timing against the seriousness of the situation. They both chuckled, and didn’t notice the glares of two of the members of the advisory council, Lumets and Tilm. “It’s going to be okay. I had the best teachers.”
Kabru blushed. “Thank you for trusting me,” he whispered. Kabru wasn’t sure Laios understood how inexperienced he was, compared to the advisory council and Yaad. At the very least, he didn’t care. Kabru knew the council must resent him, getting called in by the King himself, over them, to help him train for such an important meeting when he was nothing more than a nameless student. The thought also excited him, in a dangerous way.
The council had been nothing but dismissive and condescending to the both of them so far; the exact type of power-hungry monsters he despised. He was glad to have this superiority over them.
“Remember to use the correct greeting when you see him. And don’t mention anything about monsters. Especially don’t mention anything relating to fish-men. Last year their fishing industries were significantly harmed by an outbreak —“
“I know, Kabru,” Laios smiled. His anxiety was almost making Laios feel more confident. He wanted to say what he’d told Kabru last time about this: If it was socially acceptable for me to talk about it, I could actually give him good advice. Kabru had reassured him that they could make that the focus of their next meeting. “You told me.”
“I know — I just,” Kabru huffed, brushing Laios’ wolfskin overcoat one more time. “This is my first time doing this, too.”
“I’ll make you proud.” Laios grinned at him, giving him a thumbs up.
“You are both well on your way,” Yaad said, walking up to stand beside them. “But it will only be worthwhile if you get out there on time, Laios.”
Laios and Kabru met eyes one more time. It had only been a few weeks since the coronation, but with the intensity of all the work they’d done together in that time, they were already able to say some things with just a look. Kabru gave him a reassuring smile. Laios shut his eyes briefly to ground himself and stepped away from Kabru, into the throne room. Kabru, Yaad, and the advisors followed suit.
Laios was not a perfect diplomat, or negotiator, or politician, especially not at the very beginning. He forgot honorifics and polite customs that his Eastern advisors, Hameyo and Ide, had been practicing with him, much to their frustrations. He was overly friendly, as Yaad and Jael had warned him against. His smile and expressions, which Kabru was working on him with, mostly fell into the creepy over-exaggerations that Kabru had been afraid of. But his leadership qualities shone through: his generosity, his desire to build a relationship with the emperor, his focus and fairness. When the topic of monsters in Melini and the East arose, he kept to the pre-approved script they’d developed, despite Kabru knowing how much Laios wanted to talk about it for the entire evening.
His most contested moment of the night was the very end. After concluding the meeting, Laios stood up to bow to the representatives, and they took a moment too long to hide the surprise on their faces. Kabru couldn’t help but register Laios’ respect for others, in a position that so tended to go to one’s head. But he knew, as did Yaad and the advisors, that the representatives might not see it as a kind gesture; rather, a sign of weakness or insecurity.
“You were great,” Kabru greeted him as soon as they found themselves back in the corridor, giving his elbow a squeeze. “Our hard work paid off.”
Laios looked sheepish and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. He mumbled something about not being able to do it without Kabru and they started walking down the hallway.
They reached the end of the corridor and entered the strategy room, where the advisors were standing around the table. They hushed their quiet conversations and turned to regard Laios. They sat down, and waited a moment for everyone to settle in before Berun began speaking.
“Why did you bow to the representatives at the end?” he remarked curtly.
Laios stilled. “I – I thought it was the right thing to do. It’s polite.”
“Polite is for everyone else. You are a king now.”
“They will see it as weakness,” said Illenou. “They will think you do not see yourself as a leader.”
“It is mistakes like this that lead to sieges,” Lumets hissed. “Coups. Raids.”
“Now –” Yaad barked at the table. “There is no need to draw such drastic conclusions over a small lapse in judgement –”
“I would not call it small,” Hameyo said.
Tilm cut in next. Laios felt like he was in a pit with triple-fanged striped snakes – they hunt in packs. “He must know the full consequences of his actions. He represents all of us now.”
“You can speak to me directly,” Laios challenged them. He knew he was inexperienced and learning, but he deserved this position; he’d earned it; he was successful at it. That is what he had to tell himself.
They all turned to him, sizing him up. They leaned back in their seats, deciding to not continue with the topic, for now.
Kabru had been watching and unsure of what to do as the exchange went on; he needed to build respect and status before he could challenge the advisors, even when he hated them, hated the way they treated Laios.
“Your majesty,” Yaad said, formal in the way he addressed Laios when not in private, “I think you showed great improvement in your judgement and language with that meeting. There were items to improve on. We will discuss them. But it is also important for us to acknowledge the positive trends we are seeing. This is merely the beginning of your political life. A learning period is just that.”
The advisors glared at Yaad. Laios tried to memorize his words.
“Now, the council is correct that we do have improvements to make. I understand the desire to bow, but that is a reflex you should no longer listen to. We also need to refresh you on honourifics. That with fine-tuning some language choices and your tone are all I can think of needing our attention for now.” Laios straightened his posture and nodded, and the group continued on with their discussions, his advisors in check and Kabru hopeful, for the time being.
The next morning, Laios woke to a series of loud knocks. “You should be up before sunrise every morning,” Fleki called through the door. His room was still dark, with only the slightest bit of pre-dawn glow seeping into his room. “We start with some farm tasks and then move onto breakfast.”
“Let me just get dressed,” Laios said back, apathy and what felt like boulders weighing down his body. He put on a maroon sweater and thick pants, still perfectly clean and intact from their lives at the castle. He wondered what they would look like by next month.
Fleki was waiting for him in the kitchen, a wicker basket in hand, lined with a piece of floral-patterned cloth. She held it out it towards him. “Have you done any farm work before?” she asked, and Laios nodded his head.
“I’ve worked on a few, yeah.” He took the basket from her.
“Good, because I had to teach myself everything, and I don’t trust that any of it is particularly right.” She opened the back door and led them outside into the garden. Laios walked down the double-rows of garden beds to the duck coop, muscle memory from his old jobs kicking in. He carefully opened the coop to reveal five ducks, petting each of them on their soft heads. He was thankful that at least normal animals weren’t terrified of him.
“Their names are Pea, Dea, Lea, Rhea, and Bea,” Fleki pointed out each of them.
“Well, good morning,” Laios said, imagining them as just young giant hunter ducks that hadn’t come into their own yet. “Sorry to disturb you.” He reached his hands in to pick out the three eggs that had been laid. Fleki showed him where the feed was, and he threw a scoop onto the ground as they let the ducks out. They waddled out and began munching on their breakfast. Fleki introduced Laios to the plants in the garden; he had missed the potatoes and the cabbage at the back and the apple tree the night before.
“Don’t worry about it,” Laios said when Fleki started rattling off instructions a mile a minute. “I’m good with farmwork. I can weed and water these after breakfast, yeah?” Fleki nodded. “Is there a well nearby?”
“Just at the side of the cottage,” she answered. “Will you be able to carry water with your hand?”
Laios raised his left hand, wriggling his stone finger. As painful as the memory was, he was hopeful he’d grow to appreciate it with time. “Mithrun’s magic healed it well after sleeping on it. I’ll be just fine.”
“This may not be as much of a catastrophe as I thought,” she said. “And you can cook?”
Laios almost laughed, but the weight in his chest still stopped him. “Definitely.”
“And clean?”
“Well enough.”
“You had to clean as a king?”
“Well, I wasn’t always a king,” he said. “You know that.”
“I guess.” Fleki started walking back inside, and Laios followed. “Mithrun is pretty good about helping, even if he’s unenthusiastic.” He was waiting in the kitchen for them, nothing laid out on the counter yet. Fleki started getting out ingredients and cookware, and Laios took note of where everything was as he set the basket down on the counter.
“I like specific instructions,” Mithrun said. “And I’m not helping you with the goats.”
“Because of the demon?” Laios asked, remembering what Kabru – fuck, Kabru – had told him about Mithrun’s story in the dungeon.
“In less words than that,” Mithrun glared at him.
Laios didn’t notice Mithrun’s annoyance. “What are you doing here, anyway? Why are you staying here?”
Fleki opened the bread box, and Laios stepped forward to begin slicing it. She moved to cast a firing spell into the stove and set up a pan on top of it with a pad of butter. “Eggs,” she ordered Mithrun, who passed them to her.
Mithrun launched into an overly long story about the Elven queen, and her five daughters, and all their gossip and histories, getting increasingly farther away from answering Laios’ question, until Fleki interrupted with a huff, the eggs already being plated on three small dishes.
“The Queen took Mithrun off the Canaries and ordered him to monitor and manage any monsters in Melini. She chose here because it’s right outside your monster-clearing radius. And the tallman who lived here would only sell the land if we agreed to keep the goats. Apparently they’ve been in the family a while.”
“The elf queen?” Laios asked, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know she had you stationed here.” He thought on it another moment. “Shouldn’t I have known that?”
Mithrun gave a small shrug. Laios finished buttering his bread and passed the plate to Mithrun, who didn’t seem to register it, until Laios pointed at it for him. “There’s plenty the elves do that you don’t know about,” he answered.
If this was in his castle, Laios knew he would’ve had to try and get out whatever he could’ve from Mithrun, and he could imagine Kabru leaning into him to whisper talking points, though he couldn’t think of what he’d say. His right ear – Kabru’s usual side – prickled and flushed. Laios wasn’t in his throne room anymore, though.
“Do you ever find any monsters?” he asked, hopeful, as they brought their food to the dining room.
“Here and there,” Mithrun said. “We get half-dire wolves, sometimes, after the livestock. It’s only happened a couple times. And I doubt they’ll be here any longer, so I’ll have to venture into the forest and beyond to find anything. Besides that, it’s mostly just harmless vegetation and fungi. The only nearby dungeon is a small one –”
“It’s a one-level one, right?” Laios settled in at the dining table and began eating. “Falin’s been there.”
“Yes.”
“It just naturally spawned last year.”
“Yes,” Mithrun repeated. “As I was saying, that dungeon is the only one anywhere near here right now. I have no real work.”
“Oh. Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“Bad.”
Laios deflated a bit. He was still thinking about the wolves he’d missed. “I mean, I guess it’s good that the monster situation is under control. It makes things safer for everyone living here.” Both him and Mithrun sighed, disappointed for the lack of monsters in their futures, even if for different reasons. “So your main job right now is to note any monsters that do spawn, and keep track of whatever is happening in the local dungeon?”
“Correct.”
“I mean, I know that’s not much, but it’s so cool!” Laios said, almost finished his bread and eggs. The talk of monsters got his mind off his lack of appetite enough to get food down. “There have been a lot of times this year where I wished that’s what I was doing instead of being in the court.”
Neither Mithrun nor Fleki were interested in talking him through any of that, and Fleki stood up from the table. “Next we’ll clean up, and then I’ll introduce you to the goats.”
Laios looked at Mithrun questioningly. “This is my time to do my monster work,” he answered, and pulled up the sleeve of his tight knit shirt to show a leather band with a small bell attached to his wrist. “Fleki charmed this to start ringing when it’s time for dinner,” he said, letting irritation in his voice show, “to make me continuing on with my work past that impossible.”
“Effective,” Laios answered.
“Like cattle,” he muttered, and stood up and teleported away without so much as a goodbye.
Kabru didn’t know how it didn’t bother Laios more. How he grimaced but accepted it every time his advisors shot a snide remark or thinly-veiled insult his way. He wished Laios could fire every last one of them. He wished he’d banished them after that first meeting, with the Eastern representatives, when they had no hesitations about circling in on him like the vultures they were. And he knew today would be even worse than whatever they’d encountered before.
Him, Laios, and Yaad were organizing papers sprawled in front of them at their spot in the castle library. Kabru could feel Laios’ anxiety from across the small desk.
“It’s going to be okay, right? It’s not like they can say no. I do still run this place.”
“That’s right. This isn’t going to be easy. But you want to do this. I admire you for it.” Kabru took Laios’ hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Laios squeezed back and looked to the window, which opened out onto the pristine grounds of the castle. Kabru had something else a part of him wanted to say, but he stuffed it down, as he always did.
As much as Laios hated talking down to the council from his throne, Kabru and Yaad had convinced him that the difference in height was a needed reminder of their difference in power. “I know you hate being alone up there,” Kabru said, “but in this case you need it to be clear that you are higher than them, on all levels. They are here to advise you, but you have the final call.”
“I am here to support you too,” Yaad said with a sigh. He hadn’t been easy to convince – he’d been staunchly against Laios’ idea – but he conceded that long-term it was better to keep the relationship of trust he’d built this past year with the king, given his determination on this issue.
Laios looked to Kabru, pleading with his eyes. “Can you please stay with me up there?”
Kabru wished he could say yes. “I’m with you right here,” he said, and put his hand on his heart.
Yaad looked at them both, unhappily. This was another concerning development he was afraid would only contribute to the mess they were about to create. “Let’s focus on strategic support, Kabru,” he chastised. Kabru frowned.
“Just remember that we both believe in you, King Laios,” he corrected himself, tongue-in-cheek. He’d gotten too comfortable with Laios and with being petulant when Yaad scolded him for it, but he wouldn’t stop.
“Well, no time like the present,” Laios said, slapping his hands on the desk. They made their way to the throne room, where the council members were waiting for them.
They wasted little time on greetings and pleasantries. The members of the council knew the change in setting and the King’s demeanour were all indicative of – something different, most likely troublesome. Laios cleared his throat.
“Today I will begin introducing a new law to Melini,” he opened boldly, sitting strong and straight in his grand, red velvet chair. In his speech, whenever he was uncertain, he looked to Kabru at the council table below, always finding a reassuring look from him. He forced himself through the first few unnatural lines that Yaad and Kabru insisted he begin with. “I assume there will be questions as I speak. You will allow me to finish before asking them.”
The shot looks at each other, already upset at the tone of the meeting.
Laios squeezed the arms of his throne. “It has come to my attention that my sister and our magical advisor, Marcille, wish to be wed. I will be amending our marriage laws to permit this.” The heads of the advisors shot up, and two of them almost yelled out at him before catching themselves. “I know the typical laws of tallmen kingdoms do not recognize marriages between the same sex. But those close to me – Marcille, Princess Falin, Kabru –” he gestured to him, and Kabru forced himself not to react when the advisors all looked at him with rage, continuing to watch Laios with a small smile, “—have been surveying subjects discreetly about this the past few weeks and have found the majority to be far more accepting than one may expect. I believe that this move will cement the identity of our kingdom as a land of acceptance and of hope, one that is unique and thriving for it.
"And to celebrate the passing of this law, we will host a royal wedding for the princess and her bride, as our first marriage of this kind in the kingdom. We will hold it on the two-year anniversary of the seven-day feast and my coronation, on August 8th, 516.” Laios caught his breath when he finished, anxious from all the information he’d had to recite perfectly. “And lastly. I will remind you that while your advice and opinions are allowed, I am the one with final authority in this room, and you will behave as such.” He paused. He hated, hated that part. “You may speak.”
Hameyo slapped his hands against the table as he stood, and Lumets and Berun started yelling at the same time.
“This is unacceptable!”
“We will be the laughingstock of the entire Continent. They already think us weak –”
“Because of blunders on your part,” spat Illenou.
“—This is a mistake that will divide the kingdom and could threaten the validity of the crown,” Hameyo growled.
Tilm and Ide spoke last. “I can see only scandal and division coming from this. It is beyond unwise. It is irresponsible.”
“We unanimously urge you to forget this ridiculous notion.”
Jael, eyeing Laios eerily from the middle seat of the table, merely gave him a smirk that sent a chill up his spine.
“Jael?” one of the advisors asked.
Jael let the anticipation in the room build for a moment. “Let him do what he wants,” he crooned, still staring Laios down. “We’ll see who is right, in the end.”
Kabru went cold, three seats down. Laios cleared his throat. “I thank you for your advice,” he said, remembering the response they’d practiced, remembering Kabru looking at him, coaching him, the night before. “But this decision is final. I may remind you that you are in my court, and all conversation will be had with respect.”
The room paused for a moment, everyone considering the possibilities for the next move. Tilm cleared his throat, and asked, coy like a fox with a rabbit in its mouth, “Will you be next, your majesty?”
Laios was at a loss– Tilm's words sounded fine, but something about them felt cruel. Yaad growled, “His majesty just reiterated the need for respect. You may leave, Tilm.” Laios, still confused, followed Yaad's lead and repeated his order. The advisor betrayed no emotion and let himself out of the room, his target achieved: self-doubt, confusion, paranoia.
The rest of the room remained silent after Tilm left, until Laios decided to speak on the final details of the law. “We will introduce it the month before the wedding via royal messengers, so people have adequate time to ready their affairs to attend the wedding. It will be an official holiday. But we will begin discreet preparations now. You will not reveal any of these details prematurely.” He paused, watching the advisors all communicating silently with each other, below.
“What are your thoughts on this, Yaad?” asked Berun.
Yaad had had his answer memorized for days. “I am here to work alongside the King, and I will respect his decisions. While I understand this move holds an element of risk, I also know our subjects best, and know that they are people with more love in their hearts to share than anyone else. I believe the sincerity of this change will resonate, and if we have foreign relations visit for the royal wedding, then we can control the spread of the news and sway warier outside forces. It can also be an opportunity to demonstrate the thriving agriculture and economy we have in the Kingdom.”
The remaining advisors huffed. “We’ll just have to see about that,” Ide mumbled.
“That we will,” Laios called, recalling their attentions. “If that is all, then you’re dismissed for now. We will meet again tomorrow for regular council.”
They broke for lunch, which Laios took with Kabru at a picnic table on the lawn. It was still a bit too cold for most people to sit outside, mid-April, but Laios didn’t mind – he was used to much colder, up in the North. Overcast skies and mist wrapped the perfectly trimmed hedges around them. Laios tore into his turkey and gravy, with imported slime for dessert in a small glass cup.
“I’m so glad that’s over,” Laios said between bites, “I’d so much rather be getting my ass kicked by a hippogriff than be in another room with them. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you.”
Kabru ate his food with more reservation; he liked feeling like a gentleman. “I didn’t even do anything.” He already knew what Laios would say back, and his ears started getting hot.
“You kept me grounded. That’s more than anyone else.”
Kabru liked Laios’ compliments. He liked giving them back even more. It was one of his favourite little games in their court life together. “You’re the one who had to actually face them. You were brave.”
Laios smiled at him, mouth closed, thankfully; he sometimes still forgot his table manners. After finishing chewing, he asked Kabru about upcoming visits that afternoon, and his friend started rattling off names and histories and considerations for their appointments. Kabru was the only way for Laios to find any of this interesting enough to listen to or remember. He loved listening to Kabru talk. A thought popped into his head, he’s pretty when he rambles, and with it a pang of – something. Something warm and something cold, all together. He almost dropped his fork and hoped Kabru didn’t notice, busy off on his tangent.