forum No Choice (Closed with Null-Gravity) (1/1) (MxM)

Started September 05, 2023 by @RhysTheFirebird group

tune

(Oh, yes. Foreign Enemies to Married Enemies to Married and Finally Falling, minor language barrier 500k+ words.)

A maid sticks her head into Incarcius' chambers and bows her head.

"My Lord, the foreign prince is here. He is currently waiting outside the front doors. Shall we welcome him in?" she asks, her voice soft and subservient, doing her best to avoid bringing the crown prince's rage down on her head.

"No. Make them wait. I never wanted to do this, and neither did they. They can keep their wits for a few more minutes. I shall be down shortly. Gather everyone in the hall in 2 minutes. And make sure everyone is spotless and smells decent. I don't want tthe foreign prince to think we're a bunch of slovenly drunkards or feral raiders," he says distantly.

The maid bows deeply.

"As you command, My Lord," she replies, scurrying off to gather everyone.

Incarcius takes a few deep breaths to steel himself against his still potent rage, at least until the prince is settled in.

After a bit, he heads downstairs and stands at the front of the host of maids and butlers.

He nods to two of them, and they walk over to the massive front doors, hauling them open.

As they open, Crown Prince Incarcius puts the best welcoming smile he can muster on.

It looks as though he's being molested by a gaggle of geese with knives.

"Prince of Veandera, Roazin Democarcius, we bid you welcome to the North Territory and the kingdom of Trila. We hope you find your stay here to be enjoyable and warm," Incarcius states.

(Exactly-)

Roa stands there, looking up at the building before him. He may or may not have felt the slightest bit of awe at seeing the home. It was beautiful, if slightly cruel. It wasn’t everyday Roa saw homes carved with detailed images of bloody battles. But that was probably because his homeland was more. . . He didn’t have a word for it. He didn’t want to think more civil, because, well, every kingdom had a different way of society. He would say his home leaned heavily into the edict side of things?

He shakes his head slightly, he wasn’t here to judge Trila. He was here to make a peace agreement. By marrying himself off to one of the cruelest men known to the world. He sighs heavily, wanting to go back home, but from the looks of things, that wouldn’t happen for a long time.

He clasps his hands behind his back rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. When the doors open, he masks a light, kind smile onto his face. He says mask because it wasn’t genuine, though Roa was kind. When the other person deserved it.

In the span of the last few weeks, Roa was struggling to learn Trila’s native tongue, and so far he sucked at it. He could barely introduce himself or greet anyone. He would have to make do. He clears his throat, trying to piece together a sentence before speaking, “Thank. . . you for the. . .” He pauses, biting his lip in concentrations before speaking again.

“The welcoming. . ?” He tilts his head, wondering if he sad ‘welcome’ correctly.

(He tries so hard- I’m just waiting for the moment when he accidentally curses someone out-)

Incarcius stares for a moment.

"It is said, 'thank you for the welcome,'" he corrects. He wasn't bothering to speak in Roazin's native tongue, though he knew it well enough to hold a simple conversation. Only because he'd spent time interrogating a few Veanderan spies his nation had captured.

This was Incarcius' home, his country, and he did not care if some prince showed up out of the blue, he would not switch tongues expressly for anyone's comfort. It was not how he did things.

Especially not to some namby-pamby prince from a nation that was clearly too weak to defend itself. It was insulting, really, how weak Veandera was.

How easily they gave up one of their commanders as a sacrifice, to keep theirselves safe.

More than anything, really, that's what pissed him off. Even beyond being given up himself as a peace offering.

Presently, his pupilles gaze and natural looking yet forced smile bored into Roazin like the fall of an anvil into a wood floor.

"Please, make yourself at home. I doubt you will be leaving us for a long while," he continues, gesturing to two of his ervants. Immediately, they nod at a few others and they all rush out to the carriage to start bringing in laggage.

Roazin processes the words, nodding slightly. "Of. . . course. I'm apoplexies." He felt like he spoke wrong and tries to fix it.

"My. . . apoplexies?" He should shut up now before he says something wrong. He goes silent, shifting his weight slightly. He felt awkward, unsettled. His lack of communication skills made him feel worse. They didn't help. He looks up at Incarcius, not only was the man on high ground, but he was well over a foot taller than Roazin.

Incarcius's words hurt him for some reason, a soft ache settling in his heart. His home land. He wondered when he would see it again. The lush open fields, the beautiful lakes, streams and rivers. The small grove of threes dotting the landscape. It was a beautiful place, fir for the Veanderan horses. Beautiful steads, stronger and faster than most other breeds of horse, bigger as well. Prized and almost never seen outside Veanderan lands, the horses were worth fortunes.

Roa bites his lip, taking long moments before putting a shitty sentence together, hopping he got his meaning across. "I've nothing. . . Brought horses. . ."He holds up two fingers and then motions to two out of four horses tethered to the carriage. The ones he motioned to were the largest and smallest of the four, but all clearly Veanderan horses.

"Big one is gift for you." He looks at Incarcius. "From my own. . . breeding. He's. . . one the best."

Roazin had brought Kazeal, his own horse, as well as Dryzyn, one of his best horses, with him on the trip. Kazeal, beacuse he knew he would get bored and want to ride, and Dryzyn as a gift for Incarcius.

Incarcius' nostrils flair at the egregious mutilation of his native tongue.

"I would not suggest uttering that word again, Roazin. It has several meanings, of which only one can be considered even remotely polite, and even then only in extremely rare scenarios," he chastises.

The prince of Trila tilts his head.

He really expected me to provide him clothes? How much more stuck up can he get, Incarcius thinks.

He glances over at the horse and blinks slowly.

He had indicated the massive one as being the gift for Incarcius, which made some amount of sense considering how massive he was. And yet, it was still astounding to see such a large horse.

He looks back at Roazin.

"You will be taken into the city to shop for clothes later today, seeing as you didn't see them as an important item to pack. I am surprised you made it all the way here without commiting suicide just from how bad your clothes smell," he says offhandedly. "It might have been better for you if you had, even if you had packed clothes."

He turns on his heel and strides upstairs.

The servants glance at each other, then indicate for Roazin to follow after them.

Roa bites his lip, struggling to follow Incarcius’s words but catching the gist of them. “I. . . I am. . . Sorry. . .” He murmurs, looking down and tapping the toe of his boot on the ground.

He turns to the butler and murmurs softly into his ear, an anxious look on his face. The butler listens then looks at Incarcius, “The Prince wishes for me to express how sorry he is for what he said. He’s been trying to learn the language, but with the lack of spears, he doesn’t get very much practice in Vanderan.

“He did bring clothes, enough for a about two weeks, the length of his travel. But the king though it wouldn’t like to see him in the traditional clothes of our people. We brought our own money to get him new clothes.”

Roazin nods, and then speaks slowly, “I. . . Am sorry if it. . . Came off as. . . Stuck up?” He tilts his head to the side.

The butler looks at Roazin and speaks to him softly, “Do not fail and do not be a disappointment again. The kingdom’s safety rests on your shoulders.” He turns and walks back the the carriage, looking at the driver and signaling for him to go.

Roazin swallows, No pressure. . . He follows after the servants, quiet.

Incarcius nods at the butler, but his eyes flash in a way that showed a clear dislike for the way the butler had the gall to look him in the eyes and speak in that way.

"Good to hear it. We shall get him teachers and tutors while he is here," he replies.

He waves his hand.

"We shall take the trunk with the clothes and cleanse them," one of the servants murmurs deferentially to the foreign prince and butler.

The servants that had indicated for Roazin to follow led him up to a room that held an elegant mirror, clearly very expensive.

The white queen sized bed in the center of the room was partially blocked off by a thin, white linen curtain, and the bed itself was covered in a silvery diuvan.

In a corner stood a wardrobe, and on the opposite side of the room was a magnificent desk with an equally magnificent chair.

The servants bow and murmur to Roazin that he should make himself comfortable before leaving and closing the doors behind them.

Roazin shifts his weight slightly, looking uncomfortable as he looked around the room. He was used to the darker tones of his home, blacks, browns, darker grays. He always found those darker colors calming an relaxing. Welcoming.

The whites were slightly blinding for him and he stands in the center of the room, uncomfortable. He could feel a headache forming at the blinding colors ab h presses his fingers to his temple, closing his Eyes. he felt like a sore thumb in the bright room.

He moves slowly towards the desk, pulling the chair out and slowly sitting down. He closes his eyes, running his hands through his hair. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, not relaxing. He was tense, ready for anything that could happen as he sit there.

5 minutes pass while Roazin waits.

Not because Incarcius was busy but because he really did not want to deal with this. . . foreigner. It truly pissed him off how bold the rulers of both his new fiancé and his kingdom were being, marrying this. . . wimp to him, the terror of any nation who his father and him don't like.

Anyways, after 5 minutes had passed the door to the room opens and Incarcius steps in. Now that he was alone with the prince, he didn't bother to hide his disdain or anger.

"I have no words for you. Only three rules. One, stay out of my way. I do not need you here, nor do I want you here. I am only entertaining this delusional farce on my father's orders. If I have need if you, I will call for you. Two, you are not to leave the grounds of this manner. It is now, in essence, your new prison. Get used to counting the same blades of grass over and over," the prince of Veandera says harshly.

He turns away and strides towards the window, staring outside.

"And three. You are to perfect the Veanderan tongue. Until you do, you are not to talk to me unless I ask you a direct question."

He looks at Roazin from the corner of his inhuman eyes.

"Any questions before I have the servants guide you to your room?" Incarcius inquires.

Roa's lips part slight in shock, his golden eyes widening slightly. Confusion mixed with slight anger, his chin lifting defiantly. "I will. . . Not stay locked away just. . . To please you, Incarcius." His eyes narrow slightly, his posture shifting, back straightening and stiffening.

"I am. . . Already working on. . . Your language. You do not need to. . . Tell me what to do." The anger was growing at this man's behavior, thinking he could just boss Roa around. "Do not presume that. . . Just because I am here. . . Away from my homeland. . . Does not mean I am yours to order around."

His arms cross over his chest, his jaw tightening.

Incarcius' eyes flash wildly. With a move, a warm - no, make that almost searingly hot - blade is pointed at Roazin, the golden light staining the room with the unyielding light of Heaven; the power in the weapon was unmistakable. It was a clear display, meant to intimidate. The calculated, furious look on the prince's face was terrible to behold.

"Your father gave you to me as a part of a peace treaty. I all but own you, Roazin. I can do what I wish, and if I wish to lock you in a cell to rot for the rest of your worthless life, I will make it so." he snarls, his tone dripping with disdain and anger.

The blade disappears now and the prince takes a breath. "As for your butchery of my tongue, I can hardly call it better than a small child's way of speaking. I predicted this, however, and in an hour your tutors and teachers shall arrive. They shall also teach you the customs of my home, and my kingdom, that way when I bring you to meet the king you do not look an absolute fool."

He turns back away from Roa. "Have I made myself clear?"

Roa raises an eyebrow. Despite his soft demeanor and quiet voice, he was unfazed by the blade pointed at him. He looks down at it, smirking slightly. There were only so many people who were able to strike fear into his heat and mind. This man was not it. Instead, rage flashes in his golden eyes.

He switches to his own tongue, not caring if Icarus could follow or not. He'd red the reports of how many of his people had been taken after being suspected spies. "While my father gave me to you, your father also gave you to me. Think you have however much power you want, but no cell you have can hold me." Roa knew that Incarcius didn't know of his gifts, no one did. He had kept it secret, and would continue to do so as long as possible. Any prison, he would be able to free himself from with just a few drawings.

"Now, I would appreciate it if you would remove your damn blade from my person. I would really hate for this to get violent this soon."

He tilts his head, flashing a warm smile. His kept the features on his face gentle and welcoming, though inside, he was raging at this man's treatment of him.

He huffs out a laugh, "I am not dropping everything of my homeland. I don't care what my father's butler said, I will wear the clothes of my people. The only reason I am learning your language is to communicate. You can suck it up and deal with it." He places his hands on his hips, glaring.

"But other than that, you've made yourself crystal clear."

He steps past Incarcius, walking towards the door.

The atmosphere sours further, and I felt as if an almost incomprehensible anger had started to leech the warmth from the very stones of the castle itself. The stones next to Roazin's head shatter as a golden spear strikes the wall, and yet Incarcius had not yet looked away from the window.

"In your arrogance you not only presume to challenge me but the king of the nation in which you now reside. I do not know what else to call that beyond sheer hubris or an extreme lack of intelligence. At the least you have no care for your well being," the prince says softly but the underlying snarl betrayed his emotions.

Without warning, Roazin would feel a strong hand grabbing his chin harshly, not bothering to try and keep from hurting him. The half-angel prince glares coldly down at him. He switches to Roa's language, and with his usual arrogant precision he starts to speak in the smaller prince's native language.

"The next time you decide to threaten me, I will throw you in the lions pit and we shall see if you can be as arrogant in the face if them as you have been with me," he whispers. He may have messed up a couple conjugations and a simple mix up of the two different ways to say "you," but as per usual he was nearly flawless. He hated being lesser versed in anything, especially if the one who had more knowledge was someone Incarcius had no intention of acknowledging as anything more than a stain in his marvelous home.

Incarcius releases Roazin and steps aside coldly. The spear had long since disappeared. The hateful prince gestures for Roa to leave.

"I will be in touch with you again shortly. Your room is the one adjacent to this one," he says, his tone now as cold and arrogant as it was before the argument, no traces of anger left on his face save for a slightly twisted lip.

Roa doesn't even flinch, spinning around, "I do not challenge anyone. I state only fact." His lips press together in a thin line, golden eyes glimmering.

"If you wish to demand respect from me, I will demand the same from you. I see no reason to respect someone who has no respect for me."

Roa was not pleased with the insults, assuming that just because he would not lay down and let someone be an asshole to him, that he was an idiot. Or no respect for his life. He could scoff at that notion.
Roa had spent his whole life fighting to keep it.

Roa lets out a hiss, his golden eyes darkening. His rage was palpable, fingers curling into his palms, "I only threaten you out of a live for my people. I'm sure you would do the same. If you had come to my home instead, you wouldn't give up your traditions just because I or my father told you to.

"Don't go assuming just because you're bigger than I am that I'll just take your bullying and posturing without a word."

Roa jerks his chin free before Incarcius could release him and stalks from the room, slamming the door behind him. He makes it to his room and throws his jacket on the bed.

All of this white was starting to give him a headache. He was missing the dark, rich colors of his home. He sits down in a chair, rubbing his temples. "Fucking hell. . ."

Incarcius ignored everything up until Roazin decided to assume what he might or might not do.

"If it is for the greater good of my country, I would even drive us to ruin," he hisses, his eyes betraying maybe what might lie beneath his cruel, explosive exterior. "I would turn hell to heaven and rend the very earth itself asunder to grant my people a peaceful life. That is how I must be. You don't have the stones to think like that, or the will to torch countless fields in the name if king and country. The steadfast and heavyhanded iron resolve of a warrior is not something soneone as insignificant as you could even hope to understand."

He lets Roazin leave without another word, but his fervent, zealous, almost callously catatonic words about his beliefs ringing in the air.

He slumps against the wall when nobody is in sight, making sure the door is closed before he lets himself start to shake and cry silently.

He hated being the only one who had the will to put his own desires aside for a chance for hie country to grow. But as the crown prince, he knew nobody else could take his place.

So presently, he straightens and dries his face, composing himself before striding imperiously out of his room.

"Call the prince once dinner is served. Keep guards around his door and assign him a team of four of our best. Send a servant to the training hall just before you start serving the food. And if the prince wishes to speak with me, send him alone," he orders a nearby servant. The servant nods and rushes off. Incarcius heads out to his training room to start his training regimen.

Roa tips his head back, gaze locked on the ceiling and blowing out a breath. Maybe he'd do a little redecorating in here. Somehow. But for now, he got up and walked to his chest, flipping it open. He had a few outfits that weren't soiled by travel, all of them formal except for one.

He pulls out a pair of soft, dark brown trousers and a loose black tunic, changing into the clothes. His shoulders relaxed and he flops onto the bed, a ball of dark colors in a vast ocean of whites and creams.

He lays there for a few moments before falling asleep, the stress of the day swiftly dragging him under. He sleeps dreamlessly, waking about two hours later.

He sits up, rubbing his face. He glanced out the window before standing and grabbing his boots and jacket. He pulls them on, sliding them on. He walks towards his door, opening it.

He pauses, seeing the guards and scowls, walking past them.