Pairing: Aerin x Male!elf Mc (Cyrus)
Summary: The Elves of Undermount and King Arlan of White Tower form an agreement, to be sealed by the marriage of the King’s youngest son and Cyrus of House Nightbloom. A political alliance between the two was long in the making and important to uphold, so despite the heavy burden, Cyrus knew he could not shirk his duty and could only hope that his husband would be good to him.
Notes: There will be another part to this story soon enough, I wanted to make it multiple chapters cause why not? I think there’s a lot of material to work with
Tags: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd @baldwinboy5ive @lilyoffandoms @guinevre @vicissavior @lancelotsimp
“Why me?” Cyrus demanded, suddenly and loud enough to be heard over the wind rushing in their ears as they flew toward the palace of the white tower.
“Because you’re unimportant to Undermount,” Tyril said back, which Cyrus had known was the answer, but he still wanted to hear it out loud.
The tensions between Undermount and White Tower had been rising, and in an attempt to smooth over that tension, a simple deal had been made. A marriage was an easy alliance that was not so easily broken, and Cyrus had been chosen as the most obvious choice to be given away.
Because, like Tyril said, he was not important. Sure, he had mobility, but his family was dead, his contributions to elven woxiety would not be a great loss, and marrying some human prince would be a better use of his time.
Or so everyone thought.
So he’d been packed up, given a Drake, and Tyril Starfury as an escort before taking off to White Tower to meet his new fiancé, a man named Aerin.
They’d never interacted before as Cyrus had never gotten to stray far from Undermount, and he wasn’t the most pleased with the arrangement, but it was considered his duty, and shirking his duty would get him nowhere.
Besides, there was a small part of him that was interested in seeing the world. He’d never been given duties that brought him far, but he had a curious mind and was hoping to see the best in the situation. The best part was that he would get to see something new.
The peaks of the white tower came into view, shimmering softly in the setting sun. It made the white stone shine orange and yellow, which would have been a beautiful sight if Cyrus wasn’t so absorbed into his own head.
As they drew closer, it became clear that there were people waiting for their arrival. At first, they appeared as little more than tiny specks, but soon it became clear they were people. Not close enough to make out any features yet, but Cyrus still felt a tightening in his chest and forced himself to look away from the looming castle with its many white spires.
“What if he’s cruel?” Cyrus blurted out, his fear finally slipping out, but it was far too late for any real assurance. He didn’t know the man he was to marry; he didn’t know his humor or temperament; he didn’t know if he would even like the man.
He liked to believe that no deal would have been made that would put him in harm's way, but he didn’t truly trust that all the elves in Undermount would care more for his well-being than whatever alliance stood between the elves and humans.
They would gladly give Cyrus to a cruel man if it meant they kept their power and peace.
Suddenly, the drake dropped steeply, and Cyrus was forced to tighten his grip on Tyril’s waist. The wind flew wildly through his hair and made his eyes water as they came into a steep landing, and the dragon's feet alighted gracefully onto the stone floors.
He heard the chatter of the people around them, but was too busy getting his bearings to really pay attention to what anyone was saying. Tyril, of course, did not have the same problem; he slid off the drake with ease and the same refined grace he always possessed.
“King Arlan, this is quite the reception committee,” Tyril said, and as Cyrus finally got his wits about him, he realized it was true. There were nobility, guards, and servants gathered for their arrival, all of which seemed overboard to Cyrus, but who was he to say how the humans did things?
With a quiet sigh, Cyrus slid from the back of the drake, landing behind Tyril, his head held high and his back painfully straight. He’d been quite trussed up for his first meeting with his betrothed; his hair had been braided back and swept to the side, thin gold wire was running through the dark strands, and intricate clips had been secured at the base of the braise.
And while he looked a little windswept, it didn’t detract from the obvious effort put into his appearance.
“We are happy to welcome you to our home; the alliance between Undermount and White Tower is a long one; it must be maintained,” King Arlan was saying, to which Tyril dutifully nodded along, though out of the corner of his eyes he glanced back at Cyrus, silently checking in, making sure he still stood strong.
Tyril was not very clear with his care, but Cyrus always managed to pick up on it, and right now he appreciates it far more than he usually does.
With a deep breath, Cyrus schooled his expression and put on an easy smile before stepping forward and lowering his head in a respectful greeting. “It’s a pleasure to be here, King Arlan. I am Cyrus of House Nightbloom. I hope this arrangement between our families will help further solidify the relations between our people,” he said, his voice steady, never wavering for a second as he stood up straight again and met the king's eyes.
Two men stood beside the king, and Cyrus knew one of them was his betrothed, but they were both dressed in fine clothes, both Prince's; one was the older son whom he had no interest in, but he couldn’t tell which was which, at least not until King Arlan smiled and gestured at the slightly shorter of his two sons.
“This is my son, Aerin. I trust that the two of you will have much to discuss together,” he said, allowing Aerin to step forward.
The prince looked nervous, not as well put together as Cyrus was, but he didn’t look all that intimidating, and Cyrus was glad it was him and not the other brother he was being married to. He didn’t want to sound rude, but the king's older son had a rather unsettling air about him.
“It’s good to meet you; I know this has been in discussion for a while, so it’s nice to put a face to your name, Cyrus,” Aerin said, bowing his head much the same way Cyrus did before he reached out and gently took Cyrus’ hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, which were flushed a slightly darker blue, irritated by the cold air from their flight.
His cheeks, however, turned darker for a very different reason. The kiss on his hand was a very human greeting, but it was sweet nonetheless, and Cyrus found the tension in his shoulders melting away.
It looked like things could be worse. Aerin seemed sweet, and he wasn’t unattractive. Which Cyrus noted with some relief. He would have been fine if his spouse did not physically appeal to him, but he thought it would make things far easier if he did find them attractive.
Luckily, it seemed he had come out on top with Aerin.
“I hope the two of us will get to know each other well,” Cyrus finally responded, and he was glad to see Aerin smile, seeming happy with the exchange between the two of them. Perhaps he’d been just as unsure of the arrangement as Cyrus was.
Clearing his throat, King Arlan brought attention back to him. “The ceremony will take place tomorrow, for tonight we thought it best we leave my son and Cyrus alone and allow them to become acquainted,” he nodded at them both, the perfect picture of grace as a king. “You will be given a private meal together, if that is acceptable to you, of course." He explained, addressing Cyrus directly at the end.
“I have no objection; it will be good to speak with Aerin,” he responded, though he felt he didn’t have much of an option but to say yes. This was expected of him, and he would do his duty.
Both he and Tyril were garnering stares from their surrounding audience, and it was starting to set Cyrus on edge. He didn’t like being watched; he stared at it like some sort of spectacle. The people of White Tower were most likely not used to seeing elves, but Cyrus wasn’t exactly used to being around humans. At least he had the decency to not stare.
The king said something that Cyrus didn’t catch, and suddenly they were all walking inside. Tyril walked beside the king, but Curis stuck by Prince Aerin, who seemed almost surprised that Cyrus hadn’t left. He didn’t see any reason to stand by anyone else; after the wedding, Tyril would be gone, so he needed to get used to being without the man.
“Have you ever been to White Tower?” Aerin asked, speaking up so suddenly that Cyrus caught him off guard, and he wasn’t sure what to say, despite the obvious answer being a resounding no.
He raised his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, trying to think of something more to say that would actually be an engaging response. “No, I’ve spent my life in Undermount, and there was rarely any reason to leave,” he explained, getting a little distracted as they walked further into the palace and the beautiful architecture became more apparent.
The ceilings were high and carved with intricate details, and above them on the walls were windows of stained glass that reflected multicolored light into the ground, all of which rippled and shimmered as the sunlight shifted through clouds and the leaves of tall trees. “I am glad to be here now; it’s beautiful,” he said, turning his head ever so slightly so he could meet Aerin’s eyes.
The prince had nice eyes, soft and brown, with long feathery lashes that cast shadows on his cheeks when the light hit him at the right angle.
“I am happy you like it; I'll show you around after we’ve eaten,” Aerin said, brightening up at the prospect of showing Cyrus his home. It was obvious the prince held a fondness for it, and Cyrus envied that a little. He liked Undermount, but sometimes the way things were done was so exhausting, so confining, and so strict.
Things seemed freer here.
“We have beautiful gardens here, and the library is wonderful; it’s one of the most extensive collections in the kingdom if you're interested in that sort of thing,” Aerin added, stepping a bit closer to Cyrus and looking happy to share. It was rather endearing.
A snort of condescending laughter sounded to the side of them, and Cyrus looked over to see Aerin’s brother walking at a pace behind them. He’d forgotten that the others were still there, and Baldur’s interruption wasn’t appreciated.
“You’ll bore him to death before the two of you even reach the altar,” Baldur said, laughing far louder than was necessary. If his tone had been different, then Cyrus could have brushed it off as a rather tactless joke, but the crown prince sounded like he meant every word as an insult.
The way he laughed was clearly meant to mock, and the ensuing look on Aerin’s face was something that told Cyrus that this was a regular occurrence.
Clearing his throat, Cyrus cast Baldur a withering look and very pointedly looped his arm through Aerin’s own, which seemed to shock the prince so much that he actually stumbled over his own feet. “I’ll be happy to see the library actually; I expect you’ll have interesting Tomes on magic,” he said, directing his words at Aerin but making sure Baldur heard them as well.
It didn’t sit well with him to have a brother-in-law who acted cruelly, so he didn’t intend to take any shit from Baldur, no matter how much he expected to get his own way.
It turns out he expected it a lot, because he sputtered and glared for a moment, looking ready to start a fight, before suddenly the king was speaking up and announcing the party was to split. Cyrus and Aerin would be given a private meal together, while Tyril, Baldur, and King Arlan would dine more publicly. Hosting various lords and ladies at a dinner.
Cyrus was glad he’d get something more private; he didn’t think he could take being a spectacle at the moment.
He understood people’s interest in the arrangement being made, but he’d only just arrived and didn’t feel like being bombarded. He wanted to get to know his fiancé without prying eyes all around them.
They said a brief goodbye, and Cyrus locked eyes with Tyril as they went their separate ways. Aerin and Cyrus were then led by a servant down a short flight of stairs and into a moderately sized dining room, where a table had already been laid with a meal. The room smelled of fresh, cooked meat and fragrant tea. It was nice.
“You were very nice earlier, about the library,” Aerin said, slipping his arm from around Cyrus’ as he stepped forward and pulled out a chair, gesturing for Cyrus to take a seat. “If you’re really interested, then I will be happy to show you, but you needn’t pretend; I know it may seem like a dull pastime,” he added, looking sheepish and unsure of himself.
He stepped away then and took his own seat, across the table from Cyrus, who smiled reassuringly as he picked up the cup beside his plate and took a small sip of the floral-smelling drink inside. “I wasn’t pretending; I would be glad to see the library; even if I wasn’t interested in books, I would still be happy to go with you; we’re going to be married, and I want to know what you enjoy,” he explained, which once again seemed to shock the prince.
Cyrus had a feeling that Aerin didn’t often have people who showed interest in his interests.
“Besides, I feel your brother needed to be put in his place,” Cyrus added, turning his gaze down to his plate, which was beautifully put together. A small bird of some type had been roasted and was topped with a sauce that smelled vaguely like something he ate back home in Undermount.
He would miss the food back home, but perhaps he could find new favorites—things he enjoyed even more.
“It’s better not to get on Baldur’s bad side; he can be rather-“ Aerin broke off and clenched his jaw, looking angry for the barest of moments before his shoulders slumped and he just began to cut up his own food. “He is not used to being told off,” he finally finished, noting a fact that Cyrus had already picked up on quite easily on his own.
“Well, perhaps it’s time someone stood up to him; I’m not one to back down from a challenge, and if we’re going to be married, then I will take that seriously,” Cyrus said, taking a small, practiced bite of the food, which coated his tongue with a salty taste. “What kind of fiancé would I be if I didn’t stand up for you?” He asked, wondering if anyone had taken the time to stand up for Aerin before.
Cyrus could understand not having people on his side; as the last member of House Nightbloom, he was often pushed to the side, shunned, and regarded as lesser in some way, so yes, he understood, and perhaps it meant the two of them could have a marriage built on that understanding, that they were the same and would be on each other's sides.
The sound of a bird singing outside drifted in, but Cyrus was more enraptured by the look on Aerin’s face, the open surprise at being treated kindly.
Cyrus hoped he could make kindness the norm for the prince so that he wouldn’t be shocked by it again.
“I want this marriage to work. I do not expect anything more than friendship from you, of course, but I would like us to be friends at least,” he said, watching as Aerin’s expression continued to twist with surprise.
Eventually, however, the prince’s lips curled up in a smile, and he nodded. “I’ll gladly be your friend; I have not had many of those in my life,” Aerin responded, and Cyrus got the impression that he really would treasure a friendship just as much, if not more, than a lover.
