*~*
Freed tosses with a low sound before curling on his side feeling the sweat beading and sliding down his skin. His fingers clutch the sheets as he shivers before the desire to throw the blankets off scorches along his nerves. In all his years, he can’t ever remember feeling anything like this; hot and miserable and sick. The blankets are more suffocating than anything twisting and keeping him captive.
He had to get out of that bed.
It’s a fight to get untangled and then onto his feet. Stumbling on shaky legs he navigates the twisting corridors nearly by memory and ends up outside in the chilly night air. A few feet has him staggering and then dropping onto the cool grass with a low sound of discomfort
It’s only when he feels vibrations that he realizes that someone has come upon him and he is too out of it to even wonder if this was how he died when a hand touches his; a cool hand and something wild and hot settles. His vision slowly returns and he gazes up into red eyes that seem more alarmed than relieved. “Shit,” the voice says, “This…this ain’t good.”
His vision dims and Freed is unconscious before he can fully register what was said.
It’s the waking up that has him more concerned; a slow state like the honey that was often served with bread at meals. But finally, he blinks upwards and it takes him a moment before he realizes that this is not his room. Nothing here is familiar so he jerks upwards. “Whoa, take it easy for ya hurt yerself.”
The warning comes from a voice both familiar and alien and Freed shifts his attention to a dark haired male sitting beside the bed. It’s the red eyes that are familiar. “Wh-what…who are you?”
“Gajeel Redfox,” comes the bemused response, “And apparently ‘m yer Match.”
Freed blinks a few times. “My…But royals are not…”
“Well, hate ta be th’ bearer of bad news but ya are. Apparently.”
Freed is still trying to wrap his mind around this before realizing that not once has this stranger used his title. While that was a breach of protocol there is a strange sense of pleasure that comes with not hearing it. “Is that why I felt so ill?”
“Yeah, that was yer magic. Didn’t seem ta like th’ palace. Who woulda thought?”
Freed’s lips curve at the words. “You should be careful of how flippant you are.”
“That so?” the stranger asks as he rises before stepping closer and reaching out. His hand doesn’t even connect before Freed feels something spark along him. “What’re they gonna do, execute me? ‘M bound to ya. Would not end well in that case.”
“Where am I?”
“Servants quarters,” comes the response, “Figured it wouldn’t do ta make a big deal outta it.”
“Except I’m pretty sure the palace knows I am gone and…”
“Your personal servant knows,” Gajeel interrupts, “As do yer father’s advisors who are gonna wanna see ya.”
Well, at least it wasn’t his parents. Not yet. Freed can only imagine how that conversation will go though he has to think that him not being their firstborn would not make this into a mess. However, he’s very sure that it will be a mess.
Things here often were no matter how much Freed disliked that. Chaos was not something he enjoyed in his life, however, something tells him that he’s got nothing but that from the wild-haired stranger who was now his partner.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Hello, highness.”
Freed isn’t sure that he likes the tone leveled at him. It was soft and almost too kind. He’s pretty sure it’s not followed by anything pleasant. “I have a feeling you’re about to say something that I do not want to hear aren’t you?”
“Well, that depends on how you see it.”
Freed’s lips purse a moment before he slowly sinks into a plush seat. “Just tell me the truth.”
“The truth is, plainly, that you are Matched whether or not your parents will agree or like it very much. There is nothing that can be done. You will be married to this Gajeel Redfox.”
Freed closes his eyes a moment. “I do not see my parents taking this at all well. But at least I am not the heir to their throne or they might really have a meltdown.”
“I am sure that would definitely not please them. But you are the first ever and perhaps they will see that as a good thing.”
“In the end,” Freed says quietly, “It doesn’t matter how they see it. Matched partners are bound regardless of position or gender.”
“Yes, that is pretty much where we are. But you know that they will bluster. So I wanted to have this conversation so that you will let us handle your parents.”
“I can…”
“Whether or not you can, Prince Freed, is not the point. The point is that you don’t have to. This is our job. Let us do it.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“You are a prince! There are obligations that you are supposed to fulfill!”
“I am a prince,” comes the easy agreement before would come, “but I am not the heir. And do you have such little faith in him to…”
“That is not what we are saying!”
“Well to be fair,” Freed says dryly, “that is exactly how it comes off.”
“Freed Justine, you are not going to just march in here and declare that you are somehow matched with…with…”
Lips curve upwards as he waits for the spluttering to continue before murmuring, “Is it that my match is male that disturbs you or that he is a gladiator?”
“He is not worthy!”
Freed walks calmly across the room though there is a storm in blue eyes. “His magic and mine say otherwise, you realize.”
“This has to be a mistake, a plot. I’ll talk to my advisors and…”
“I already did that,” Freed interrupts, “You think that I wasn’t as offset as you are? We spoke on the matter and there is no plot. There is no dark magic at work. We are Matched. There is nothing else to be done for or about it. You both know the laws as I do.”
“We can change them!”
Freed shakes his head. “No, not in this. This is how it has been and it works. Gajeel and my magic are entwined. There is no other recourse than…marriage.”
“What will the people say?”
Reputation. That was their concern. Freed had suspected it would be which is why he had to be sure before he told them. This was not a usual situation in a royal household. The advisors had told him that much when they gave him the news. And warned him that it might be tricky going forward.
Tricky. That would be one word for it.
“Whether or not they approve is not the point in this; I cannot change it and neither can Gajeel. You can have all the doubts and fears you want, as do I, but there is no changing the facts as they stand. Everyone would only be served by adjusting as I will have to.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before adding, “Or would you prefer that the first Match within a royal family ends in death because of disapproval? I believe that might be more of a scandal than this.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Yer Highness.”
The title has his shoulders tensing a moment before the teasing quality registers and Freed finds himself huffing slightly. “You are the only person who can make that an insult, you realize. And that could earn you a death sentence.”
“Uh huh,” comes the bemused response, “‘Cause I’m sure that’s how it’s gonna end.”
Despite the earlier jibe, Freed’s lips curve upwards at the edges. “I suppose you do have a point but you could pretend that titles come easier to you.”
“Why? I know how much sycophants irritate ya.”
Gazing over his shoulder at the dark haired figure who by all accounts should not be here like this, Freed’s gaze softens somewhat. “I did make mention of that, did I not?”
“Mmhmm,” comes Gajeel’s murmur, dark eyes filling with mirth, “A coupla times. At least.”
“Sounds about right,” Freed consents after a long moment, “So what brings you to me?”
“I can think of a few thin’s,” Gajeel remarks as he settles against the side of the throne with a grin, “I mean considering that we’re partners figured ya could spend some time wit’ someone who ain’t tryin’ ta see how big of a vein can appear on yer pretty forehead.”
“My parents will not be gone long.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be gone ‘fore they return. Honestly, how long is this song an’ dance gonna go on fer? They know our laws.”
Freed shakes his head and chuckles before murmuring, “Oh, they are very good at avoidance.”
“‘M sure that’s helpin’ thin’s.”
Freed shifts so he can gaze at the other before reaching to lightly brush a knuckle. “I know that this hasn’t been exactly a great time for you and I am sorry. If I could…”
“Yer not the problem. Ain’t ever been. ‘S this whole goddamn ideal of what makes one worthy that makes my head hurt. I mean have ya met have th’ royal twats who…”
“Language, Gajeel.”
“Language is what it needs ta be. I’ve seen the idiots they’ve paraded through here. Ain’t a onna of ‘em who ever learned who ya were beyond th’ title.”
“That’s just…”
“Don’ tell me that’s jus’ the way it is. Ain’t ever a good partnership that way.”
“Well, most royals aren’t magically-inclined so it’s not like that’s how we choose. I am the first in a very long time and no one was prepared for it.”
“See, that’s another thin’: how is it that only the royals in these places don’t? Doesn’t it make it seem…sorta unbalanced in that way?”
“That’s…” Freed’s voice trails off into another sigh and he leans back against the throne, “It’s probably for the best , don’t you think? The king has enough power over the people. Can you imagine going up against one with magic?”
“Suppose that would not end well,” Gajeel surmises before adding, “But would not have this goin’ on.”
“It won’t be forever because even they can’t avoid it no matter how they truly think about it.”
Gajeel snorts softly. “Yeah, suppose they can’t. Though they seem to wanna think they can.”
Freed gives him a softer grin. “Well, can you blame them? You are quite not what they would have ever expected for a partner for me.”
“And what about you? Did ya ever have an idea?”
Freed is quiet before he murmurs, “I don’t think I want to answer that.”
Gajeel laughs. “Oh, that is more an answer than you think, highness.”
“Freed. It’s Freed, Gajeel. Learn to use that would you?”
“I know what yer name is. I jus’ like th’ look of annoyance ya flash. Yer scrunched nose is really quite cute.”
*~*~*~*~*
“Yer morons.”
“Gajeel,” Freed warns though the familiar thrum of the other’s almost wild magic curls and crackles around his own.
“Well, they are,” Gajeel retorts, “That they ever thought…”
“Their thinking doesn’t matter,” Freed retorts, “Focus and let’s get this finished. We didn’t get them out here for a conversation.”
“Suppose we didn’t,” he responds bemusedly, “but it’s a first when yer wantin’ violence, ya realize.”
“They attacked us, attacked you,” comes Freed’s terse response as his flickering magics show his irritation, “There is no other option at that point.”
“And everyone thinks ‘m the bloodthirsty one,” Gajeel chuckles as his sword forms: large with broad spikes; a wild magic just like the man who used it, “You do know it takes more than this to actually put me at risk, right?”
“It’s not about that,” Freed retorts as his own blades slimmer and more elegant form as well, “No one endangers those I love, threatens them with death, and lives.”
At that, Gajeel gives a wide, toothy grin. “Well, then, yer highness, let’s show ‘em just who they are dealin’ wit’ yeah?”
For the first time, his expression matches the deviant smile on his partners. “Let us,” he murmurs, “It shall be the last mistake they ever make.”
