Chapter Text
The kingdom of Kerch is breathing a large sigh of relief. The delegation sent to the kingdom of Novyi Zem has returned and the agreement has been signed. Novyi Zem’s prince Jesper will be wed to Kerch’s prince Wylan, much to the benefit of both countries’ standings in the world. With Ravka, Shu Han, and Fjerda all growing only more fierce and powerful, Kerch and Novyi Zem need to announce to the world that they stand united and strong.
Of course with both parties in this arranged marriage being male, there will be no offspring to inherit either throne, but that is not a worry. Both Jesper and Wylan have aunts, uncles, and cousins – countless potential heirs. But the urgent need right now is for the two countries to unify in this show of force, and worry about which cousin will inherit which throne later. The people of Kerch have, in particular, been feeling nervous, small, and insignificant so this engagement especially benefits them.
Wylan learns the details over dinner, as members of the delegation which has just returned from Novyi Zem provide a full briefing to the royal family. As he always does, Wylan listens well. The engagement celebration – and contract signing -- will take place in three weeks’ time here, in Kerch’s capital. The two princes will meet for the first time then.
The details continue to unfold over dinner, and Wylan barely touches his meal to be sure he doesn’t miss anything amidst the sounds of cutlery scraping. As the messengers relay, six months after the engagement ceremony, Wylan will travel to Novyi Zem, where the wedding ceremony will take place and the princes will reside permanently. Wylan looks down at his plate to conceal his grin. Much as he will miss his step-mother Alys, he simply can’t wait to be half a world away from his father. Wylan is already mentally going through the steps he will undertake to pack up the contents of his lab to bring with him. His piano will need to be transported as well. One of the royal scholars is an expert on Novyi Zem and Wylan will ask him to cover everything about the flora and fauna of that country.
To his father’s everlasting horror, Wylan still cannot read but he can learn, grasp, and recall concepts better than most others. His head spins. There’s so much for him to learn about the land that will become his new home!
And yes, of course, it would help if this Prince Jesper turns out to be kind or smart or funny or handsome, but Wylan knows enough to know that you can’t hope for too much. As long as Jesper is not as horrible as Wylan’s father, Wylan will find a way to live with him and make it work. Countless royals throughout the ages have had to do the same in their marriages. Wylan’s own parents hardly saw each other except at official functions so he knows that even if he detests this Prince Jesper, it will all be manageable.
***
“Wow. The Novyi Zem delegation is huge.”
Wylan breathes the words to his music tutor one afternoon, three weeks later. They sit high up in one of the castle’s towers, as Wylan leans out the window and watches Novyi Zem’s entourage cross the moat. Carriage after carriage, horse after horse, and guard after guard stream through, boasting the brighter, sunnier shades of typical Novyi Zem apparel. Watching from his high vantage point, Wylan feels that his future people look like a burst of sunflowers.
“Well, we knew the delegation would be large,” the tutor replies evenly. “Prince Jesper has many uncles, aunts, and cousins, just as you do. And for each royal, there’s a bevy of servants to attend their needs. Just as in your family,” he adds tartly. “You won’t meet your betrothed right away though, so stop peering out the window. Your father gave strict orders that the delegation is to be allowed as much rest as they want before the engagement ceremony. So – back to your lesson, Prince Wylan.”
Wylan makes his usual annoyed face, mouth dropping, eyes rolling before replacing it with a friendlier visage. He likes this tutor, but at this point Wylan has surpassed him; he should be the one conducting today’s clarinet lesson.
He wonders what day to day life will be like in Novyi Zem. As Wylan has told himself, he will make anything work as long as he will still be surrounded with the things he loves like his music and his chemicals and someone to teach him all about the new land’s monarch butterflies and oak trees.
Wylan’s lessons for the day begin to wind down after another couple of hours. Mercifully he no longer has a reading tutor; after years of angry barbs and shame-inducing glares, his father has said he can stop trying “to do what everyone else can do – read words off of a page.” Now with more free time, Wylan again pokes his head out the window. The Novyi Zem delegation apparently brought along good weather. It’s a bright day with clear air, and Wylan decides to head for the stables and go for a ride.
***
He likes horses. They never question his inability to read, and each one he has ever interacted with has seemed to love his touch. Prince Wylan’s favorite is a gray Percheron named Morrin. The royal stables are an airy, clean place, smelling of fresh straw, leather, and grain.
“Hello Keats,” Wylan says, automatically greeting one of the stable boys.
Except when the dark-haired man standing inside the stable turns around, Wylan can see that he is not Keats.
“Oh! You’re not Keats. You’re with the Novyi Zem delegation,” Wylan says. The man’s skin color and clothing clearly denote him as such. “I’m Prince Wylan.”
The man bows deeply. “Your Highness. I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
“Please. No need to stand on ceremony,” Wylan says simply. He looks around and glances at the horses from Novyi Zem. It would be interesting to check them out and learn their variations. “You are…..?” Wylan asks.
“Yaspar,” the handsome man supplies. “Would you like to see the horses from Novyi Zem? We have a very impressive black stallion named Dehi.”
The two begin to walk among the stalls, Yaspar leading the way. “And I love this Friesian. We call her Fimoni and she is one of the fastest I’ve ever seen.” He leans in and adds, with a raise of his eyebrows, “The Prince is especially fond of her.” As if on cue, Fimoni lets out an exuberant squeal.
Wylan finds his attention is a bit split. As much as he would love to study Fimoni, Dehi, and the other horses from his soon-to-be new country, he keeps finding himself drawn towards the stable boy himself, this Yaspar. The man is strikingly handsome, yes. And more than that, he possesses a poise and confidence that Wylan has rarely seen in a commoner.
So Wylan keeps him talking. “Does he enjoy horseback riding?” he asks. He is sincerely curious but he also wants to watch Yaspar’s mouth move.
“That he does. The Prince is a man of many talents and interests.”
“Is that so? Tell me a bit about them.”
“Well, as any royal lad, he is a skilled conversationalist. He collects guns and is an excellent shot. He also enjoys archery, dance, theater, chess, card games, delicious foods, attractive attire – and a good book.”
“That is very impressive,” Wylan says. His eyes narrow just a bit. There is something written all over Yaspar’s face and Wylan is trying to understand it. It’s just out of his grasp, much like words on the printed page. Yaspar certainly speaks of his prince with pride, as appropriate. But is it just a bit too much pride?
“What about you, Your Highness? If I may ask?” Yaspar queries.
“Oh well…. I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly good at conversation – or attire. But apart from horseback riding, I do love music. Flute and piano are my favorites but I can play nearly any instrument.”
“Any instrument?” Yaspar asks, his eyebrows raised. “Very talented.” He quickly adds, “Your Highness.”
Wylan nods and continues. “I also enjoy chemistry, studying the elements of the world and how they might be used together. And flora and fauna. I am particularly keen to learn all about the flora and fauna of Novyi Zem.”
Yaspar nods. “The prince might have brought a book or two on the topic with him, having heard that you have interest in these subjects.”
Wylan’s mind starts to spin a bit. He dreads the moment when his betrothed learns that he cannot read and he’s not sure how he will deal with the shame. And the prince brought him a book?? Wylan himself has not even given any thought towards a gift for his betrothed! More questions gallop through his head. This stable boy seems to know an awful lot about Prince Jesper. Could they be friends? Perhaps Yaspar is the prince’s bastard half-brother. Wylan knows his own father has had plenty of dalliances. If that is the case, Wylan hopes that the prince has some of the stable boy’s good looks.
In fact, that last thought seems to be the one that is making this so much harder for Wylan. This stable boy is gorgeous. His voice is smooth and yet sweet. His beautiful eyes never seem to leave Wylan’s face. Wylan is certainly no blushing virgin but this confident man in front of him seems to ooze sexuality. As a prince, Wylan has rarely been around anyone so bold, anyone who so openly admires him as if he wants to drink Wylan in.
He struggles for words, feeling again like he must organize all these thoughts while trying to reach for something that is just out of his clutch. So he decides to keep Yaspar talking. “You – uh, you said that the prince enjoys theater,” Wylan manages. “What about you? Our stable boy here, Keats, partakes in theater when he’s not working. His acting is quite good.”
“I enjoy theater as well,” Yaspar says. “In fact,” he adds, with an entrancing raise of his eyebrows, “I like a little light roleplay at times.”
This is too much! Yaspar should be reprimanded for so blatantly flirting with a prince. Or well….should he though? There is not one royal male, to Wylan’s knowledge, who is expected to go to his wedding night untouched. Royal males have always been permitted their flings.
“Do you?” Wylan asks. He flirts right back at Yaspar, leaning in close to the man, though his voice nearly shakes. Standing this close to him and practically inhaling his charisma is dizzying.
And then it all clicks inside Wylan’s mind.
The man’s name….Yaspar….which sounds a lot like Jesper.
The fact that he practically just admitted that he is playing a role!
His confidence around a prince.
His apparent familiarity with – and adoration of -- Prince Jesper.
And even the way that the horse Fimoni squealed happily when Yaspar strode by and mentioned that she is Jesper’s favorite.
“You are Prince Jesper!” Wylan exclaims. And then he laughs in sheer pleasure at his own deductive powers.
The man returns his smile and his glee. “That I am.”
“And what is the purpose of such a ruse?” Wylan asks. He turns his hands out, palms up, but he also smiles to show that he’s not really angry.
“It was unplanned, I swear,” Jesper insists, holding his hands out in front of him. “My mother requires me to travel incognito, which is not a bad idea for a prince, you know. And I do love horses and wanted to check out yours. You being here was a delightful coincidence.” Jesper sounds sincere.
“Delightful indeed.” Wylan looks him up and down. “You should have added ‘oozing charm at people’ to Prince Jesper’s lists of hobbies.” Wylan shakes his head. “At least I shall never be bored during our years together.”
“I believe that I, too, will find much in you to intrigue me.”
Jesper’s eyes again gleam right into Wylan’s, as if he is courting and wooing him just with that gaze. Wylan finds him more enthralling than his beloved chemistry lab, and that says a lot. He has an image in his head of combining two chemicals within a beaker, watching them suddenly blend and sizzle. He is trying to keep pace with the banter but is also willing to admit that he’s somewhere at the intersection of bemused, flustered, and entertained.
Jesper continues. “Are you intrigued enough with me for…a kiss?”
“I am.”
Wylan steps closer, tilts his head up, places one hand on Jesper’s arm, and then Jesper’s lips are there against his. He had expected to feel a rush, and indeed Jesper’s touch is electric, especially when he gently inserts his tongue. He’s not rough or greedy and he moves with ample finesse. Jesper’s fingers move to lightly touch Wylan’s chin which, despite the gentleness of the touch, somehow adds even more sparks. Wylan is a bit intoxicated from it all, and he’s the first to break away, though not after many long, enjoyable moments.
“How about….a little more than a kiss?” Jesper asks, glancing towards one of the empty stalls. “We could have a roll in the hay before the engagement party.”
Wylan wants it. He really, really wants it. But he’s felt himself at a distinct disadvantage in their association from nearly the moment he first entered the stable. There is a bit of power in saying no. And the idea of leaving Jesper wanting more is very, very appealing.
“I don’t think so,” Wylan answers. His voice is simple and gentle and kind. “We should save something for later.” He adds a small but affected shrug.
And then he pulls himself together, straightens his jacket, and turns towards the door. “See you at the engagement ceremony….Yaspar.”
Without even waiting for a reply or taking a backwards glance, Wylan leaves the stable. As he walks back towards the castle, he smiles. He is going to have to come up with a suitable response to all of this, some way to playfully strike back at his betrothed. Prince Jesper is gorgeous, witty, funny, and a great kisser but he also could stand to be taken down a peg. Their marriage will, Wylan believes, provide him with unending mental and physical stimulation.
Especially physical.
THE END
Or is it the end? I intended this as a one-shot. But just as Jesper kind of likes Wylan’s face, I kind of like this set-up and I do think Wylan needs to, as he said, take Jesper down a peg. So perhaps there will be more.