Meet Your Match
t/w: mentions of blood, death, 'cheating'
“Who is that?”
Arrayed whispers.
“He's dancing with the Queen..”
Shameless stares.
“But where's Prince Ragnvindr? Isn't he meant to be the first dance?”
Barely contained gossip.
“That's his Highness, Prince of Kuni.”
“Prince- then you mean... !”
The Conqueror who dyes lands red, seeking relinquished crowns and yielded Kingdoms. No one knows for certain if he merely wished for all to fall to his feet, or if there is a reason behind such doings.
But there is something that's known in the gilded ballroom that has fostered an atmosphere that suffocates with tension and suspense.
Billowing crimson, twisting grins—the dancing pair looks as though they are one; a terrible match created in hellfire.
“They're staring, your Highness,” you utter as the background music slowly climbs the nearing crescendo. “It isn't so common for a different Prince to grace my ballroom, after all.”
You've heard about the infamous noble, aware of his feats and time on the battlefield—but other than those grounds, he is swathed in an enigma.
The noble in question chuckles, his electrifying violet eyes pulsing with a familiar power. His response comes only after he twirls you in accompaniment with the strings, hand resting on your side.
“I believe it's more because of her Majesty. I almost mistook you for a lady of my Kingdom, what with your choice of color.”
Violet. Signature color of Kuni.
You say that it's not a crime to wear something other than the usual black and ivory, the minute conversation dying down eventually.
At the corner of your eye approaches Crown Prince Diluc—your fiancé—who is easily stupefied at the sight of a different Prince dancing along with you.
The gossip and whispers are lackadaisically contained, as though they are meant to be heard.
Well, it isn't as if the Ragnvindr is concerned about someone taking his place. You believe he's actually gladdened.
With practiced ease and years of delicate experience for the fruit of perfection, you spin, fingers being the only ones connecting you to your partner until he reaches back to find purchase on your waist.
You cross gazes with him, eyebrow arched. “So my Prince is rather talented with his tongue, as well, isn't he? What a charmer. If only his Highness Diluc can be so endearing.”
His grasp gets a little firmer as he dips you with surprising finesse and elegance, unexpected for a man who's probably only handled a sword. It reminds you of Ajax.
“Is it truly wise for the Queen to express discontent over her betrothed to a different man?” Scaramouche raises his own brow.
“I see not a single problem, my Prince. Aren't we only conversing?”
The music steadily begins to reach its end, the strings drawing out the last note that prompts the rest of the dancing pairs to curtsy. You follow along, your bow leveled with that of the Prince's, who does the same.
With the conclusion of the opening dance, the onlooking nobles erupt into applause. Whether it is out of sincere delight or the fear of upsetting you, you didn't think to wonder which is true.
“The first official dance I've had and it is with a Queen, thank you, it was nothing short of pleasant.” the violet-eyed noble kisses your knuckles as he leads you out of the dance floor.
First dance, he said. With a Queen, he said.
Is he a natural charmer or has he learned to sweeten his tongue as he grew? If not for the familiar luster of paramountcy in his eyes, you would've felt inclined that it's the former.
Despite the danger he brings not only to you but to Khemia, you can't ignore the rapture yielded from striking conversations with him.
For so long, it's always been the world playing against fire—you—but ah, is this how it feels like- to play with something capable of harm?
If you are deemed a tyrannical monster, you wonder how the rest view him, a man who seeks the oblivion of the Six Kingdoms.
It's a miracle that the ballroom is graced by many aristocrats, still, given their unmistakable fear. But... then again, they are greedy aristocrats.
So long as they behave and do their part, they know that you wouldn't send them any unneeded attention. Thus, they continue to gratify themselves at parties.
“Would you be interested in another dance, then? After all the affairs I've to address, of course. I believe my betrothed...” you simper, catching the fiery gaze of a certain Ragnvindr. “Isn't so amused.”
Scaramouche gives you a smile, though it doesn't really reach his eyes. “I'm not a patient man, your Majesty. Nothing forbids me from leaving the party.”
There it is, you can feel it, the hiss of a creature disguising itself as prey.
An enclosure of hushed whispers starts in your mind, varying in tones and intensity.
They're particularly louder tonight than usual, murmuring about the risk the Conqueror brings despite his ostensibly innocuous mannerisms. You believe them to be true.
When have they been not?
Still, to stave off the danger calls for the necessity to understand what it is, first and foremost. So, just as he set his foot down, so do you.
“My word, then whatever can I add other than the promise of the last dance to get you to stay?”
An essential entanglement, this is.
“Some wine.” that's nothing too onerous.
The smile on his face grows thin, as though that of a cheshire's. What it possibly entails, you're yet to know.
“And a private audience.”
Oho? A private audience—in other words, a time when he can talk to you alone, without the presence of both of your personal Knights and retainers.
You chuckle, intrigued. “Granted.”
He must've been anticipating this stipulation of his to be turned down—for requesting an audience with a monarch is a lengthy process. Despite being a noble, it does not exclude him from the queue.
Well, if you had a queue to begin with. People are either too cowardly or prideful to bother requesting audiences with you.
Satisfaction for the promised privacy settles on his devilishly handsome face as he dips his head. A momentary farewell.
“I eagerly await the finale then, your Majesty.”
With that, you both part ways for the time being.
You intend to go and find the dessert table- then maybe lend an ear to Xingqiu's abashed reports about the recent lack of fraud following your domineering rule.
He's never outright mentioned it, but one can easily tell his opposing and dubious view toward your way of getting things done.
Him and many others.
Oh well—it isn't as though you live to please people.
“I've to remind you ceaselessly but it appears that you do not care at all for restoring your reputation.” comes a voice just as a servant fills a plate of your preferred delicacies.
You turn around, ignoring the quick and cowardly scampering of said servant, and giggle.
“My hearing seems to have failed, is Prince Diluc actually concerned about me?”
The noble in question all but grimaces at this. You can tell that it takes him his everything not to appear as repulsed as he truly is.
Oh Diluc, how he makes sure not to hurt your feelings by masking his obvious disgust, ahaha!
“Please don't flatter yourself, your Majesty,” well what do you know, he's also so polite, “I only ever said so in the hopes that you will still be lenient in the provisos of our agreement.”
Bold of him to admit such a thing.
Ah, but of course.
The hems of your gown drape over the marbled floor as you saunter away, plate in hand. He follows close behind.
It has been a couple of months since he verbalized his want to put an end to the marriage contract and so far, his father, King Crepus, has only managed to pay back a quarter of his debt.
With the slow pace and atrophying capability to pay back, it is foreseeable that the Crown Prince will be wed to you as payment.
But you're merciful!
So, so merciful, that you extended the window of time for Crepus to return the money he borrowed. Yes, you've added a condition with that extension, but so far, you've yet to actually name the specifics of said proviso.
Diluc has been, to his pride and chagrin, attempting to get in your good graces in hopes that you won't demand anything marginally impossible. He needn't do much, really.
You already find him so fascinating—what's there not to like about his desperation to sever ties with you?
It is nothing short of amusing! Does he detest you that much that the idea of marriage turns him blue?
Well... you did slaughter his precious Princess.
“Aren't you afraid of opprobrium?” he asks.
Ah... no.
He definitely overheard the gossip. He isn't your first dance, either, him, the man you are to be wed to. Well! What does it matter?
No one and nothing is hurt, except maybe for his pride.
Teasing, you bat your eyelashes whilst inserting a slab of chocolate between your lips to indulge in its sweetness. At the Prince's back, a few meters away, stands the other foreign royal, who in spite of mingling with other aristocrats, catches your eye with a smirk.
You giggle.
“I do not think I mind if it's with Kuni's Prince.”
If Diluc isn't revolted a while ago, then he most certainly is now. His pink face, flushed from either vexation or fluster, is covered halfway by his gloved hand.
He sighs. “Even if you jest, you repulse me..”
You mirror his disappointment with a sigh of your own. The night is too early to lose its luster.
“Enlighten me with something I don't know, my Prince.”
He grumbles something you can't quite catch and you erupt into tiny bouts of laughter, walking off to find a particular servant.
Along the way, you brush shoulders with the man whose eyes dance with lightning.
The natural curve of his lips makes you wonder what awaits your time of seclusion later in the night.
Ah, finally, something to look forward to.
diluc: i dont really care if you meet up with other men, i just want to get out of this ghastly marriage arrangement
mc: [ mingles with scara ]
scara: i request a private audience with the queen ;)
mc: not a problem ;))
also diluc: your maJESTY, thE aUDacITY!!
a/n: oh diluc make up your mind lmao- by the way! 'cheating' was used a t/w because even if diluc/mc aren't 'lovey dovey', they still are technically engaged. and mc is here having the time of her life teasing poor diluc about it :V
hm, and yes, that private audience. well, ehe? ;)
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