✹ namhaid
✹ @insurhale
He couldn’t count the last time he’d been so furious. Surely he was used to Sindri’s impropriety, his flouting of convention and good sense and decency. It was almost artful, how he managed to do all at once and paint himself blameless for it. But today, of all days, of all occasions: his nameday. When the Courts came to pay tribute to the only son of the Sun King, when he would be feted for all the fae to see.
All eyes were on him, and he wore the most beatific smile he could muster under their scrutiny. Of course the murmurings had already started. Of course he heard them all. Prince Sindri has arrived with a new lover. And Prince Ceallach is pretending all is well, but everyone can see the smoke practically steaming from his collar.
It was humiliating, having his business on display. There was a small nugget of lucidity in which he realized that this guest of his was of no part in his misery. It was Sindri. Exclusively Sindri. But it hardly stopped him from laying the brunt of the inculpation on his head.
Ceallach waited until Sindri wandered off. Most likely in search of some honeyed cream or rose wine, or some delectible neck to press his lips to, before sidling up beside his dull and dark-haired rival. “Did it ever occur to you that you might not be welcome here?” he asked airily, over a glass of bubbling rose champagne. “This is for fae, after all. If you’d like to stay, the entertainment is relegated to the antechamber behind the kitchens until we’re ready to receive you. I didn’t realize freak shows traveled separate from the circuses.”