Chapter Text
The quill slid easily against the paper. Grian absolutely despised taking notes around mineral study. Gold and Iron were easy, but ever since his colliers found amethyst and gold in the royal mines, Grian’s grown sick of how many forms amethyst could grow. Of course, it was amazing. He could use the resources in trade and to sell. Offer them to the blacksmith in exchange for weaponry. A hefty trade Grian had considered. Perhaps his advisor would know what would be best. He wasn’t the best at being a king considering..
Grian’s quill stopped. He stared at the words, eyes shifting to the amethyst in front of his open book. He sighed, setting the quill in the inkwell. He instead took the crystal in his hands, running his finger and thumb over the jagged edges. He stared at the hue of purple, reminding him fondly of his mother’s eyes. His parents would’ve been overjoyed to hear of such a find.
He perked up at the sound of a knock, gaze slow and delayed. He cleared his throat, opening his mouth to speak only for his advisor to come in without more warning. He closed his mouth, letting the man come in.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. I came with some minor detail changes to go over regarding the–” Mumbo stopped in his tracks, his hands fidgeting against the page in his hand. His right hand held the page and his left hand fidgeted under his elbow, gloved fingers rubbing the fabric of his black half cape together between them. He lowered his hands with a frown, coming closer. “Your highness, are you–” His advisor stopped in his tracks yet again, their eyes meeting briefly.
Mumbo cleared his throat. “Your.. Grace..” He corrected himself. Grian felt that odd twist in his gut whenever someone called him that. “Why aren’t you reviewing the steps for the coronation? It’s in less than a month’s time. You still have to review the processions, the greetings, the recognition, the oaths, you can’t forget–”
“Forget the oaths,” Grian spoke with him, “The anointing, the investiture and crowning, enthroning, homage and yes, the coronation, I know.” Grian finished the list for Mumbo with a sigh all the while his hands rolled the crystal around in his hands. He set it down to smooth his hands over his black embroidered waistcoat, adjusting his lapels quietly. He stared at his black puffy sleeves covering the backs of his hands before they tightened, setting them in his lap. “I can’t..” He tried to find the words, gaze dropping.
Mumbo’s expression softened as he saw Grian’s face. Having known him since his teenage years, just being a few years older, Mumbo had grown used to understanding Grian’s feelings just by a look of his face. “Grian..” Mumbo spoke, calling a friend rather than the royal he was. It always made Grian smile. Not this time though. “Perhaps we could focus your energy on something else.”
Grian was grateful to have a kind friend as his advisor. He leaned back in his chair, staring at his desk then. “If it has to do with the coronation, I’d rather go back to filling out the checkbooks to pay the seamstresses and butchers than have my coronation outfit fitted a third time.” Grian decided, his eyes traveling back to the amethyst in front of his book. He had half a mind to close it before thinking twice, needing the ink to dry.
“Your Grace,” Another twist in his gut, “That sounds like a wonderful idea, but the preparations for your coronation are underway.. You must know everything before the day arrives. Shall we review while I walk you to the fitting room?” Mumbo smiled softly, reaching to pull a small book from his hip bag, opening it with ease.
There really was no getting out of this. Grian huffed, pushing his chair back to stand. He set a hand on the table as he stood, staring at his mineral notes. “Let’s review.” He decided, stepping away from the desk to roam the halls.
Mumbo quickly followed, always walking faster than Grian. Unless the royal was angry or anxious. Then the blond could pace circles around the dark haired man.
“Let’s review the processions and the choir song?” Mumbo asked, quill ready to take Grian’s notes.
Grian’s eyes focused on anything but the man in front of him. He stared at the ornate walls, covered in gold and paintings hung in every corner imaginable. His mother claimed it gave their home a light feel. A feeling of home rather than a royal castle. He had to agree.
His mother always had a way of lighting up a room. He thought of her while walking the halls she phantomed. Her laugh still echoed in the walls and bounced off the high ceilings. He remembered chasing her and playing as a child with Pearl. Heavens. Pearl.
His face fell, knowing she was taking their loss debatably worse than he was. She had always been a happy and creative child and an even more mature woman the more she grew up. She had just passed her teen years, edging her way into her twenties when the accident occurred. Although Grian was only three years older, handling family death was never easy. Even as a twenty two year old.
At least the royal house cats put some of his mind at ease. They helped with the distraction. He supposed the coronation also helped. To an extent. When it didn’t remind him too much of his parents’ late demise. The real distraction was his studying. He found mineral gathering and resources to be far more interesting than the idea of becoming king. He had learned how to divide his attention and do what’s best for his people from a young age, but recently his attention has been on anything but being a king.
His eyes washed over their family portrait, glancing at his father momentarily. His footsteps faltered. He made eye contact. He turned back, realizing a single step was a second late. “-that’s important as well. I’ll have to set time aside to clean the royal coach before riding it in.” Mumbo noticed his offbeat step, pausing his list of tasks Grian had to do before coronation. “Are you even listening?” Mumbo asked, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at Grian.
Grian whipped his head around to avoid being caught. He faltered, his steps stopping entirely. He considered lying or making up some excuse before Mumbo’s expression softened. Caught red handed. “Of course I am.” Grian brushed it off, walking past the half elf.
Mumbo frowned as Grian continued past him. Grian would rather be caught speeding through the halls before he was caught mourning his parents. He still remembered Mumbo sitting them both down, tears in his eyes as he told him and his sister the news. Grian refused to cry. His father always told him he needed to have his head on straight in order to keep everyone else calm. If he was showing intense fear and panicking, how would his people see him as a good leader? If he broke down in front of others and cracked under the pressure the people would panic. Everything his parents worked so hard for would be ruined. His people wouldn’t be able to trust an emotional child who can’t keep himself together.
“--low down!” Mumbo’s voice interrupted Grian’s thoughts, a hand landing on his shoulder. Grian stopped in his tracks, backpedaling momentarily to look at Mumbo. The man was a fit mess, panting slightly from having to catch up to Grian’s anxious pacing. “If I may.. Ask..” The man cleared his throat and removed his hand as though he’d been burned. “Apologies, Your Grace.” Grian’s eyes looked elsewhere. “If I may ask.. And excuse my behavior if it’s out of line.. I can’t help but notice your silence and pacing again. Are you doing alright?”
The question caught Grian off guard. Of course he wasn’t. Mumbo knew that. His parents passed away a month ago. So recent, he could still hear his mother singing down the halls in the morning and expected to find her in the library in his free time. He had to show strength at that time. Their parents know Pearl wasn’t handling the mourning any better than he was. She locked herself in her room and only came out at night to sit in their courtyard. She loved staring at the flowers.
“Your Grace–” Mumbo’s voice cut through his thoughts, sending the blond into a near fit of frustration.
“No, you may not.” Grian frowned at him, watching the man’s expression sadden. He swallowed, smoothing his shirt down before taking a breath. “If I’m fit to be king, I must do what is necessary. We mustn’t waste daylight by speaking of things that cannot be changed.”
“Then you must also understand how important it is to listen and understand the schedule and agenda we’ve made.” Mumbo retorted, earning a glare from the blond. The man kept his steady expression though, merely tilting his head as if to say “Really?”
Grian’s expression eased, looking away once again. “I do.” Grian mumbled, hands leaving his chest to hang at his sides. “Continue.” Grian gestured with a groan, allowing his friend to lead him.
Mumbo hesitated, seemingly torn between treating Grian as a friend and as a king. Grian knew the man’s thoughts. He knew Mumbo cared, and at the end of the day, he was content knowing even if it meant he rarely got to hear the man verbally express his care. Seeing it in his actions was enough for Grian.
“I do believe you left off going over the oath?” Grian asked, taking a slow step to shift Mumbo’s attention.
The man hesitantly followed suit, glancing at his list. “I do believe I did.” He continued, running a finger over the page. “You’ll have to recite and swear loyalty to your kingdom and its people to never turn your back on them. At the end of the day, it’s the people you’ve sworn loyalty to who take care of you and keep your nobility as king in place.” Mumbo smiled proudly.
Grian couldn’t help a smile of his own. “I was meaning to ask. Once I’m crowned, I have my first royal demand.” Grian confessed as they walked through the main doors to the seamstress’ wing. Mumbo kindly opened the door for Grian, even though there was no real reason to.
Mumbo hastily flipped a page to a blank space in his book, quill ready. “What’ll it be, Your Grace?” Mumbo asked. Judging by his tone and excitement, Grian could only assume the man was proud. Grian had to admit, he was sure of his action and confident in his choice. He rarely spoke on them, but when he did, it was always something Mumbo seemed to cling to.
“I want to lower the general tax in the kingdom for anyone aiding the royal family.” Grian spoke easily, watching Mumbo write for a moment before looking at the blond in horror. Mumbo clearly seemed flabbergasted. “You heard me.” Grian nodded with a smile, waiting for the man to continue writing. He did, hesitantly and unsure of his words.
“Forgive me, Your Grace.. Um,” Mumbo pressed his lips together and stared at the page before setting his book on a nearby table. Grian approached the alteration riser, watching the man offer a hand. Grian gratefully took it as he stepped up. “If I may ask.. Why?” Mumbo asked, getting a wide eyed look from the seamstress gathering her tools.
“Ever since finding jewel deposits and striking gold in the royal mines, we’ll have more material to work with. We’ll be able to aid the blacksmith and jewelry makers in town, selling and trading. Of course, the gold will have to be used for decor or value rather than weapons.” They shared a look that had both the men smiling.
“It’s a time of mourning, after all.” Grian reminded the advisor, hands running over his black waist coat. He cleared his throat, lifting his hands to rest on his shoulders while a cord was wrapped around his waist. “The people are grieving just as much as we are after all.”
Mumbo’s shoulders loosened as he looked up at Grian. He smiled, coming back to his book to pick it up. He gently turned the page back to review a couple of things he’d written down. Grian watched the man stare at the page with worry. Grian squinted, but remained silent while the seamstress gently lowered one arm. He unbuttoned his sleeve cuff to allow her a more accurate measurement of his arm.
Grian turned his attention back to Mumbo who had given up staring at his book and chose to offhandedly fidget and tamper with his waistcoat’s lapels. He was hiding something.
Grian cleared his throat, getting a surefire answer when the other jumped at the noise. Grian sighed. He knew the other was going to tell him something he didn’t like. “If you don’t mind me accusing,” Grian began, watching Mumbo freeze up. “What is it exactly, you’re hiding from me?” He asked, uncaring of the hunched shoulder reaction Mumbo gave in response. He smiled at it in fact.
Mumbo bit his lip in thought, clicking his tongue. Oh, it was really bad.
“I.. seemed to have forgotten a plan for the evening.” Mumbo rubbed his chin, hand tracing his jaw before reaching up to rub his eyes, knowing the vague reaction to Grian hearing the news.
Grian clenched his jaw. He hated unplanned and last minute events. He took a breath to calm himself, tilting his head back in annoyance. “My dear advisor..” He began softly, glancing at the man already prepared for Grian’s attitude. “You can not keep forgetting..” Grian paused with a sigh. “I understand your mind is just as busy as mine as of recently, but I need you to be present. I need your support to keep me on track.”
“It sure didn’t feel that way when going over coronation plans.” Mumbo jested back, fixing Grian with a look.
Grian forced a smile before rolling his eyes. “I see what you’re doing. Calling me out for my hypocrisy won’t stop me from being frustrated. Now, tell me the event you have planned.” Grian rebuttoned his sleeve when the seamstress gave his arm back.
“It's an important meeting.” Mumbo discussed, checking to make sure the ink in his book had dried before closing it. He slid it back against his hip and looked at Grian, offering a hand to help the blond down.
Grian didn’t take the hand though. He stared at the fabric of the glove before meeting Mumbo’s eyes. “What kind?” He asked instead, not coming down.
Mumbo blinked in confusion, slowly lowering his arm. “You’re to meet someone important.” Mumbo chalked up Grian’s temper to being emotional before lifting his hand once more.
Grian didn’t like this game. Mumbo always was one to challenge and test Grian on acting like a proper royal, but with the combined stress of ruling a kingdom and grief weighing heavy on his shoulders, Grian couldn’t bear to fight a losing battle. He took Mumbo’s hand with ease, stepping down with a tired expression. “Then I shall. What other plans will you have me for?” Grian asked, letting go of his advisor’s hand to adjust his waistcoat. He stepped away to the door, waving to the seamstress in thanks before opening the door himself. Mumbo already had to deal with so much of Grian, the least he could do was meet his own needs.
Mumbo seemed a little more relaxed as he followed Grian, taking a slow stroll through the halls. Grian watched the other lead, tilting his head with a small smile. He couldn’t think of a time Mumbo wasn’t at his side.
“How about we discuss this tax idea some more in the study?” Mumbo offered, trying to put Grian in a better mood. His attempts at making the other distracted wouldn’t work that easily, but Grian agreed nonetheless.
“I would love that.” Grian agreed easily, choosing to be good for the advisor. Had his mood been even slightly thrown off, he would’ve refused and demanded to know about the meeting or to be left alone. Although his own emotions and frustration were high, he was aware everyone else was hyper emotional too. Trying to be considerate of his friend, he chose to roll belly up just this once. At least he still got to do something he wanted, so was he really submitting?
“What kinds of services do you plan on aiding? You mentioned the blacksmith and butcher, yes?” Mumbo opened the door to Grian’s study, the blond walking in with ease.
Grian rounded the table in front of the window and sat, not bothering to wait for Mumbo. He pulled the recordsbook closer, opening it to flip through a handful of pages. Seeing his father’s handwriting filled his stomach with a far more severe twist than a title ever could. He frowned, fingers running over the numbers his father had written prior to his death. He flipped the page once more, finding where Grian had to randomly fill in blank spaces and figure out how to pay for his shops. Many columns were scribbled or written over, showing the struggle Grian had when first starting. A few pages over, he’d nearly gotten the hang of it.
“Any that provide the kingdom with resources or supplies. The butcher who provides meat to feed the staff. The tailors who fix our uniforms and curtains and fabric. The blacksmith who gives us weapons and armor for the soldiers. Farmers who supply crops and vegetation.” Grian continued, his gaze fixed on the book of payments. “It’s only fair to lower the charge and tax for those who support us and now that..” Grian paused. With less mouths to feed and less people to provide for, not as much is needed. Grian sighed through his nose, setting his elbow on the table to set his head in his hands. He knew it was improper to set his arms on any table, but in his study, alone, he could care less. He stared at the page, doing the most simple math in his head before writing down the numbers.
He didn’t pay much attention to Mumbo as he worked, enjoying the comfortable silence that settled over them. It was nice to be able to work with someone in the room, simply enjoying his friend’s presence.
Eventually, Grian finished tallying up the new numbers and left the records book open to dry. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The weight of his responsibilities as king had been heavy on his shoulders, but if he were to be a decent king at best, his people’s needs came before anything else. It seemed like a lot, because it could be at times, but with Mumbo by his side, he felt more capable of handling it all.
Grian finally turned his attention to Mumbo, who had been quietly working alongside him. He was writing in his own book, probably doing a multitude of things. Planning events. Coronation scheduling. "Thank you for your help, Mumbo. I appreciate it," he said with a quiet tone, breaking the silence.
Mumbo looked up from his own papers and grinned back at Grian. He lowered the book in his lap and leaned up to uncross his legs. "Of course, Your Grace. It's the least I can do to help. I am your advisor after all."
The friends sat there for a moment, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the room. Grian felt a sense of gratitude for having someone like Mumbo in his life. The two of them had been through so much together during Grian’s teenage years. Even though Mumbo was barely an adult with Grian being fifteen and Mumbo being twenty, he had a level head and worked well with Grian’s personality. Their friendship had only formed when Mumbo would nervously help Grian sneak out into the kingdom when he should’ve been studying.
"You know, Mumbo," Grian began, breaking the silence again. He pushed his book across the desk, moving to cross his arms on the space in front of him so he could set his head down. “I owe you an apology.” He admitted, gently kicking his feet under the desk. “I’ve been short with you and rude for a while. I do understand being king now puts me on a higher pedestal for everyone to see. I need to look presentable and put together to the public eye, and that’s.. Stressful.” Grian leaned back, avoiding looking at the other. He kept his arms crossed, legs dangling slightly since they didn’t quite touch the floor. “We both know I’ve been through hell and back as of late, but that isn’t an excuse to cause a dust-up. I’m sorry.” Grian mumbled quietly, never being the best with emotions when it came to apologies.
He glanced out to see a hand set itself on the desk, a wide smile on the man’s face. Grian raised his face to look at the other, his own small smile appearing. “Apology accepted.” Mumbo informed him before moving to stand. “Though.. I don’t think I deserve your kind words. Not after you meet someone.” Mumbo frowned.
Grian was thoroughly confused by his statement. “Someone?” Grian asked, pressing his arms up to stand up with Mumbo. Grian didn’t know what his expression looked like, but judging by Mumbo’s anxious shift, it wasn’t good. “Is this about that meeting?” Grian asked, shifting to push his chair back. He walked around the large ornate desk, coming to stand in front of him.
Mumbo cleared his throat, staring at the book before closing it gently. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I only got the chance earlier..” Mumbo began, walking to the door. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” Mumbo asked.
Grian frowned deeply, but gave in. He walked out of the room and paused in the hall, waiting for Mumbo. After the man closed the door, he held onto the doorknob for a touch longer than needed, probably sorting out how to bring up the topic. It brought a nasty spout of anxiety to Grian’s mind. More than he already was.
Mumbo pulled away, finally, holding his hands in front of him, wringing them together. Grian followed quietly, always letting Mumbo take the lead. Grian set his hands at his sides and walked calmly beside the other.
“Well, whatever it is, I don’t think I’ll be too angry.” Grian assured the other. Unless.. “Unless you’ve arranged a marriage–” Grian stopped walking, staring at Mumbo.
Mumbo, thankfully to Grian’s relief, was quick to shake his head and wave his hands frantically in a panic. “Absolutely not! No , no we have not!” He was fast to correct the other’s assumption, taking a hesitant side step to continue down the hall.
Grian breathed a sigh of relief, following after his friend. “Then..” Grian frowned, trying to get the news out of Mumbo, but the man seemed persistent in only explaining when they got to the dining room. Mumbo remained quiet. It’s the first time Mumbo had actively and knowingly held information from Grian, at least, to Grian’s knowledge. It was displeasing to say the least considering Grian’s thin patience.
Mumbo stopped in front of the dining hall doors and glanced back at Grian. He cleared his throat, fixing Grian with a look. Grian glared at his advisor, adjusting his shirt to lay smoothly and fixing his hair the best he could. It was never settled, and apparently Mumbo accepted his appearance because he opened the door.
Grian was hesitant, but he nodded to the dark haired man as he passed through the entryway. His eyes landed on a handful of different things. The dining table being set for three people, and a.. Elf? No. Half elf. No, elf. Grian couldn’t decide. A man with a decent length of brown hair in green talking to a servant, appearing to be listening intently. The elf’s head perked up when he heard footsteps and Grian’s thoughts all but failed him.
The man had intricate braids and jewels in his hair, tied up so his hair was out of his face, but not up. They jingled slightly when he turned his head. He was dressed in noble attire, but nothing fit for royalty. He had a large scar swiping right across his nose and Grian’s eyes caught his. He’d been caught sizing the other up. Taking the other in. He was tall. Much taller than Grian. Emerald green eyes wide with an expression Grian couldn’t quite read. He wanted to step closer, just to get a better look at his eyes.
His hair wasn’t nearly as brown as he thought it was. Intricate colors mixed in the braids. Chestnut. Hazel. A deep chocolate. Red. Auburn. Grian was mesmerized as his eyes followed the man’s everything. Curious, but cautious.
Grian stepped closer, casually strolling to be a few less feet away from the man. Grian realized he was much taller than he had first assumed. Grian curiously glanced at the other’s shoes to check if the man was wearing any sort of heel, but no. The man was just large. Easily fit. Refined. Grian’s curiosity got the best of him before Mumbo could introduce the two.
“Who are you? I don’t think I’ve ever met you or seen you in the castle before.” Grian continued to stare at the man’s face, watching his eyes crinkle when he smiled. Incredible. A single smile, and his entire demeanor changed. His wide smile was definitely more preferable than the gentle smile he had before. It fit easily on his lips as though it was meant to be. It should be plastered on his face alongside the scar on his nose.
The man didn’t seem to treat Grian any different, simply placing a hand on his chest. “I’m Scar. A guard hired in to watch over the king whi–”
“A what?” Grian snapped, turning to whip his head around, eyes locking into Mumbo’s.