Fic: Then You'll Know You Have Arrived 1/3 (Spencer/Brendon, NC-17)
Title: Then You’ll Have Arrived
Author: Mokuyoubi
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon (background Ryan/Jon, Pete/Patrick/Ashlee)
Rating: NC-17
WC: 20,674
Summary: Sequel/epilogue to my Brencer Cinderella fic. Basically my excuse to write porn that turned into an actual story, of sorts, about teenage virgins figuring themselves and each other out. IDEK.
A/N: Thanks to desert_neon for an early beta and feedback, and redorchids for making this go from 6k to 20k. Muse and I looked it over before posting, but I’m sure there are still errors here.
Oh, there are so many historical inaccuracies in here. This is some magical AU, so let’s just blame all the stuff that’s wrong on that. This is technically underage, since they’re both 17, but they’re married, and it’s historical, so. Take it how you please.
This is my first fic in a million years, so I might still be a bit rusty...
There was an unsettling silence in the carriage as the mill faded in the distance. Zachary was riding in front with the driver. The man who had carried Brendon’s shoe was introduced as Ryan, and Brendon felt dismayed on his behalf, to have suffered the indignity of carrying around his old work boot for days on end. Spencer’s valet, Jonathan, had also accompanied them on the journey. Both he and Ryan were studying Brendon with a speculative expression.
Brendon fought the urge to squirm. The condition of his old rags was disgraceful, covered in soot and flour, threadbare hems and worn patches. In a habit born from years of his mother’s chagrin over its constant state of disarray, Brendon smoothed his hair down. Spencer kept his fingers laced through Brendon’s all the while, and Brendon knew if he looked, he’d see his tanned and dirty fingers next to Spencer’s perfect, pale ones.
At last, Ryan leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “Spencer says you prefer Bennett to Dupin,” he said.
Brendon sat upright, looking first at Ryan, then to Spencer. He remembered Spencer talking about Ryan’s own opinion on the matter. Spencer said, “Honestly, Ryan, you couldn’t wait until we were home at least, to start in on him?”
Home¸ Brendon thought to himself, the palace, and had to take a deep breath. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked. He was so close, fingers curling under Brendon’s chin.
They’d been close before, but never with an audience. Never before had Brendon let himself expect anything more to come of it. Now if he just leaned forward, he’d be kissing Spencer, and that was allowed.
Ryan cleared his throat. Blinking, Brendon drew away from Spencer. “I’m fine,” he said softly, then louder, swallowing, “I’m fine. To answer your question, Ryan, I think Dupin is a bit too revolutionary for my tastes.”
Ryan snorted. “Says the miller marrying the prince.”
Brendon blushed and Spencer scowled at Ryan. Jonathan nudged an elbow in Ryan’s side. It seemed awfully bold a move for a valet, but then, from what Spencer had told Brendon already, Jonathan sounded more like a friend than a servant.
“I’m not going to apologise,” Ryan went on. “If that makes him blush, he’s going to need to develop much tougher skin to deal with palace life.”
There it was, again, that fear sneaking up in Brendon’s chest, making him draw a steadying breath. What was he thinking? Saying yes to Spencer meant everything that came along with being a prince. Brendon could never say no to Spencer, but how was he supposed to fit into the royal lifestyle?
Jonathan leaned into Ryan’s side and whispered something in his ear that made Ryan’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “I’m sorry, Brendon,” he said, though he didn’t sound very sincere.
Silence fell again. Brendon wanted to say a million things. To explain to Spencer why he’d come to the ball, and why he’d behaved as he had, and to apologise for just running away. He was all too aware of Ryan’s shrewd gaze to actually open his mouth. Hopefully they would have a chance to speak in private, soon.
*
Any hopes for a private moment with Spencer were dashed when they arrived at the palace. There were dozens of servants waiting to attend them, and three came to whisk Brendon away. He clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer just laughed and brushed a kiss over Brendon’s cheek, saying, “It’ll be fine. They’ll show you to your rooms, and you can change. We’ll see one another tonight.”
Brendon noticed the way the servants were looking at the ground or each other, anywhere but at Spencer and himself. It made him a little queasy. “Brendon,” Spencer said, more softly. Ryan was giving them another of those appraising looks, and Spencer stepped closer to Brendon, pitched his voice low. “It’ll be fine, trust me?”
“Always,” Brendon agreed, immediately, and let the servants lead him off to a side entrance.
Brendon had seen the palace once or twice, from a distance. He could only stare in awe as he was led through the halls, at the intricate ceiling tiles and patterned rugs, walls hung in paintings of kings and queens past, chandeliers dripping crystals, casting sparkling light over the gold fixtures and trim.
At last they came to a suite of rooms that Brendon was informed were now his. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of having not only his own bed, dressed in thick, warm, soft-looking blankets, but having a separate study as well, when they led him through to the water closet.
There was a man waiting there, dressed in a red and cream outfit much in the same fashion as Jonathan’s. He took Brendon in, head to toe, and said, “I think I will handle this on my own.” The other three men left, closing the doors behind them.
“I’m Shane, and I’ll be your valet now,” the man said.
Brendon wasn’t sure what to do with that. “I’ve never had a valet before.”
A smirk toyed around Shane’s lips. “I had assumed as much. As your valet, I will see to all your personal needs.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Brendon said. He didn’t want to offend anyone, but he’d been dressing himself just fine for seventeen years.
Shane considered him for a moment, head quirked to the side. “I’m here to make your life easier, not more difficult, so if you desire to bathe and shave on your own, by all means, carry on. However, it is my job to make you presentable for the royal family, so until you are more familiar with how to dress yourself to their standards…”
Put that way, Brendon could see how Shane would be useful. Of course, the blinding fear over the fact that he was going to go before the king and queen was enough to override any embarrassment or resistance on his part when Shane helped him undress and led him to the bath.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Shane said. “Call for me when you’re done. I’ll just…” He plucked Brendon’s discarded clothing up from the floor, giving it a dubious look. “I’ll just put these away for you, then.”
Brendon flushed bright red as Shane closed the door behind him. His stomach was churning. Inexplicably, he longed to be in front of his fireplace at home, wrapped in blankets, reading by the firelight.
Spencer was waiting for him, though. Spencer, who wanted to marry him. Brendon couldn’t help the soft, wondering sound that escaped him at the idea. He didn’t know how he could ever, truly believe it. Spencer had come for him, had gone against his parents’ wishes and announced he was going to marry a commoner and a man. Brendon could learn to work with his valet, and he could be brave before the queen and king, to show he was worth it.
The water was scalding hot, and there were dozens of bottles and soaps lining the counter top. Brendon almost called Shane back in, completely at a loss. He scrubbed with one of the soaps until his skin was bright red, and sniffing bottle after bottle, finally guessed at which might be for his hair. It cleaned it anyway, and didn’t smell bad, or leave him looking ridiculous.
In the end, he did call for Shane to help him shave, when he realised his hands were shaking. He didn’t trust himself not to knick his own skin and show up for his meeting with the royal family bleeding all over his chin.
Shane was quick and thorough about it. He paused halfway through, grinning, and said, “You washed your hair with the elderflower cream.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you out,” Brendon murmured.
“It’s alright,” Shane said, “but you should rinse with the rosemary water before getting out.”
“What am I doing here?” Brendon asked out loud, before he could stop himself. He shot Shane a panicked look, and Shane paused in shaving, leaning back. He looked more casual with his sleeves rolled back, baring his arms.
“You’re here because Prince Spencer chose you,” Shane said. It wasn’t appropriate, Brendon knew, for servants to say things like that. Especially ones who were strangers. Then again, Brendon didn’t feel any better than a servant himself.
“I’m terrified,” he admitted.
Shane went back to work, tilting Brendon’s face toward him, drawing the razor along his jaw. “There will be a lot of times you’ll want to run away, I’d imagine,” he said, finally. “They’re going to dress you up like them, and teach you how to walk and how to talk, and every moment will feel like a test they’re waiting for you to fail.”
“That’s hardly reassuring,” Brendon mumbled.
Shane shrugged. “I thought you might appreciate someone being honest with you. There’s no precedence for what you and the prince are doing. For him to marry a commoner, and a man…love matches are scandalous enough when both parties are of noble blood.”
Brendon was silent as Shane finished shaving, then gave him the rosemary water for his hair. Shane left him to towel off and was waiting in the bedroom with an outfit laid out. It wasn’t as fancy as what the godparents had conjured for the ball, but it was still far grander than anything Brendon had ever owned.
By the time Shane had done up all the buttons and arranged Brendon’s collar to his satisfaction, Brendon was nothing but a mess of nerves. Another servant was waiting to lead Brendon away outside his door, and Shane told him he’d still be there when Brendon returned. While Brendon doubted he’d require help dressing for bed, he nonetheless took comfort in the knowledge.
*
Brendon could hear the raised voices before he got anywhere near the receiving room.
“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” a man was shouting. “His father was a book keeper and his mother came over with some missionaries from Hawai’i, of all the places in the world!”
“Be careful, Lord Ross,” Spencer said. “Those are the parents of my future consort and your future prince, of which you speak.”
The servant darted Brendon a quick, curious look, and led him to the open door. Jonathan was just inside and ushered him in with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“That could actually work in our favour,” another man said, bent over some papers at a desk. “With all their little princes and princesses on the various islands, and the tribals still claiming sovereignty-”
“Brendon,” Spencer said, noticing him. The man speaking fell silent, and another man, tall and stout, and red in the face, gave Brendon a sneer. Brendon tried to ignore them and focus on Spencer, who came to his side and took his hand, leading him further into the room.
The king and queen were seated on a sofa by the window, and Brendon didn’t know what he was supposed to do, or say. “Mother, Father, allow me to introduce Brendon Urie.”
Brendon bowed deeply, murmured, “Your Majesties,” and waited.
“You may rise,” the king said. There was nothing unkind about his tone, or the expression on his face.
“I suppose he cleans up nicely enough,” Ryan said.
The tall man gave Ryan a dark look and leaned in to grumble something under his breath, close to the king.
“Yes, yes, Lord Ross,” the king said. “And of course that will be addressed. Mister Urie, please have a seat.”
Brendon let Spencer lead him to a chair, taking the one beside him. Everyone was staring at their clasped hands. “We’ve heard a great deal about you,” Queen Ginger said. Brendon fought the urge to laugh nervously.
“Young man,” the king said, face very serious, “my son has been vehement that your intentions are pure. I think if that were the case, you’d have turned down his proposal, knowing what was best for him.” Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand tightly.
“Oh, Jeffrey,” the queen chided. She sounded weary, and Brendon felt inexplicably guilty. “The contract Lord Ross is drawing up will assuage most of our concerns. Though there is the question of an heir.”
Brendon hadn’t thought of any of these things when Spencer had proposed. Perhaps the king was right. Brendon had only thought, selfishly, of how desperately in love with Spencer he was.
“Mum,” Spencer complained. “Father was the son of the second child. One of the twins-”
“It is not up to the twins to provide an heir,” the king said sharply.
The conversation devolved at that point, and there was a lot of yelling about Spencer’s duties, and noble blood, and marriage contracts. A part of Brendon wanted to just apologise and promise to go away if it would fix things, but Spencer was clinging to his hand like Brendon was the only important thing in the room.
“I would still like to know how this young man made his way into the ball in the first place,” Lord Ross said. Ryan was glaring daggers at his father. Brendon wondered what Lord Ross would do if he knew the kind of literature his son and the prince were reading.
“As would I,” King Jeffrey said. “Certainly someone capable of such cunning and subterfuge could also be capable of charming himself a prince.”
“Father, don’t be ridiculous,” Spencer said.
King Jeffrey gave him a quelling look. “Do not take that tone with me. You’ve gotten us all into this mess, Spencer, with your little spectacle at the ball. The boy will explain himself.”
Brendon felt his mouth working, but couldn’t make any sound come out. It was such a ridiculous suggestion. Brendon couldn’t even charm his own aunt and uncle into treating him kindly. The idea that he could trick the prince into loving him was absurd, though, perhaps from the king’s perspective, the only way to explain it.
And what of the party? How could Brendon even begin to explain the fairy godparents? “I was given an invitation,” he stuttered.
“Lord Beckett’s invitation, it would seem,” one of the men supplied.
“Lord Beckett is away in Spain,” Lord Ross said. “Are we to believe he passed his invitation along to you to go in his stead?”
“I-” Brendon gave Spencer a desperate look.
Spencer squeezed his hand and said, “It’s alright, just tell them, whatever it is.”
“There was a man. He said he was-” Brendon couldn’t bring himself to say the words fairy godparents in the presence of the king and queen. “He said his name was Pete.” Something about the words made Ryan and Jonathan smile at one another.
“Am I late to the party?” a familiar voice asked, and Pete came strolling into the room, as if conjured from Brendon’s words. On either arm were Patrick and Ashlee.
Lord Ross looked furious, but the king and queen seemed pleased to see them. “Peter,” the queen said, and met each of them with a kiss to each cheek. “Patrick, dear Ashlee.”
“Ginger.” Pete gave her a wolfish grin, and Brendon was scandalised on her behalf. The queen didn’t seem to mind, though. “Jeffrey, I see you’ve met my Brendon.”
“Your Brendon?” Queen Ginger said. She looked at Brendon again, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Do you know them?” Brendon asked of Spencer side-long.
“Ashlee and Patrick are the prince’s godparents,” Ryan said, almost gleefully. “Patrick gifted him with wit and song, and…” Spencer turned slightly pink as Ryan continued, “Ashlee gifted him with grace and beauty.”
Brendon couldn’t help but smile, murmuring, “They did quite admirably.” Then, remembering where they were, and who was watching, he turned his attention back to Pete. “What about you? With what did you gift him?”
“I gave him you, didn’t I?” Pete said. He turned to the queen and king. “I was the one who got him all dolled up and into the ball. Bill didn’t mind our using his invitation, I can assure you.” Sometimes, Pete’s turns of phrase made no sense at all to Brendon.
The queen narrowed her eyes. “I think you had better explain yourself.”
Ashlee was the one who spoke. “You both wanted true love for your children, but that isn’t something we can promise. He needed to find it for himself.”
“And when there were obstacles put in the way, I helped Brendon to overcome them,” Pete concluded.
“But, Peter,” the king said, “this boy-”
“Brendon is honest, hardworking, and rather painfully sincere,” Pete said.
“His intentions toward your son are indeed, the purest,” Patrick interrupted. “You shouldn’t worry about anything else.”
The queen wrung her hands in her laps, and then stood and came to Brendon and Spencer. She ran a hand over Spencer’s head, smoothing his hair back and cupped his cheek. “My son,” she said. “I should have trusted you to know your heart.”
She offered her hand to Brendon, who took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles uncertainly. The queen granted him a small smile and said, “I think, Lord Ross, that with the assurances of Spencer’s godparents, we may proceed without further consideration.”
Pete winked at Brendon as if to say, didn’t I tell you it would all work out in the end? Brendon was grateful, he really was, but he also thought Pete could have done things in a much less roundabout way and saved everyone a lot of trouble.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Ross said, “as you mentioned earlier, there remains the question of issue?”
The queen had a pensive look, and the king sighed heavily. Pete clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “If you will have some patience, and trust in me, I promise you’ll have no cause to worry over the existence on an heir.”
Queen Ginger and the king exchanged a look, and then the king rose.
“Very well,” King Jeffrey said. “There will be another ball to formally announce the engagement. He’ll need a title before then. A dukedom, I should think.” At that, Lord Ross looked as though he was suffering an apoplexy.
“Awesome,” Pete said, and clapped his hands. “So, that’s all settled, we should do dinner now. Leave the business for later.”
“Oh Peter,” Queen Ginger said, in a fondly exasperated tone. Pete put his arm around her waist, and cajoled her towards the door. She went, laughing, and pushing at his chest.
Apparently, Pete’s suggestion was as good as royal decree, because the gathering dispersed, Jeffrey following after his wife and Pete, talking in low tones to Patrick. Lord Ross was still glaring at Brendon, and it was most unsettling.
“Sp-your hi…I’ve caused so much trouble,” Brendon whispered.
Spencer shook his head. “You’re not going to start that again, are you?” he said.
“Spencer,” Brendon said, anxious.
“They were just worried about me, but they trust my godparents, and they’ll come to see that what Pete and Patrick said about you is true.”
Brendon hoped that what Pete and Patrick had said was true. Brendon didn’t feel honest and pure. He felt rather selfish, putting the future of the kingdom in jeopardy.
“Come on,” Spencer said. He gave Brendon an impulsive kiss, quick and soft, on his mouth.
“Spencer,” Brendon admonished, feeling himself go pink. There were so many of the king’s men still about, including the imposing Lord Ross.
“You can meet Crystal and Jacqueline,” Spencer said, and tugged Brendon to his feet by his hand.
Brendon would much rather go hide in his rooms, but he told himself to be brave, for Spencer. Spencer had gone against the king and queen’s wishes for him. Brendon could make it through a royal dinner.
“That sounds lovely,” Brendon said.
*
The princesses were indeed lovely. Brendon was happy to have them prattling at him about the newest fashions and music, and what they’d learned from their tutors recently, so he didn’t have to pay much attention to the godparents and queen discussing his future at the head of the table.
“He’ll need to see Victoria for lessons in deportment and diction. I think we can spare one or two of the girls’ tutors for languages and monarchical history,” the queen said, and made a despairing sort of ticking noise with her tongue. “Guy will need to fit him tomorrow for the wedding. And a whole new wardrobe.”
“Guy really makes the most gorgeous clothing,” Jacqueline said. “A wedding! I can’t wait to see what he’ll make for us.”
Crystal made a face. “It isn’t as exciting if there isn’t a wedding gown,” she said, then gave Brendon a speculative look. “You aren’t going to wear a gown, are you?”
“Crystal,” Spencer said, laughing at the look in Brendon’s face.
“I think he could pull it off,” Pete said.
Brendon frowned in dismay. Luckily, Queen Ginger said, “I think a white bridal suit will suffice. We’ll have to do something with the princess consort’s tiara, though.”
All this talk was making Brendon feel light-headed, dukedoms and tiaras. He took a long drink from his wine glass. The king, rather inexplicably, was giving Brendon a sympathetic look, and tipped his glass in Brendon’s direction. Brendon smiled nervously, though he didn’t feel it all, and spent most of the remainder of dinner staring at his plate and eating very little.
*
As promised, Shane was waiting for Brendon after dinner, and escorted him back to his room. “But,” Brendon protested, twisting to watch Spencer walking the opposite direction with Jonathan and Ryan on either side. “I would really like to speak with the prince on my own.”
Shane gave him a slightly incredulous smile. “I don’t think you’ll be alone with the prince again until you’re married to him.”
Brendon turned bright red when the implications caught up with him. He made a sputtering noise as Shane closed the suite doors behind them. “We’re not…I didn’t mean…” Brendon protested.
“Oh, certainly not,” Shane agreed. “They can hardly be worried about birthdates too soon after the wedding, but all the same, there would be concerns about the impropriety.”
“I just want to talk to him,” Brendon said, sinking down on the sette at the foot of his bed.
Shane paused in helping Brendon off with his boots. “I have this feeling that being your valet is going to get me into a lot of trouble,” he said.
That was ridiculous. Brendon didn’t want anyone getting into trouble on his behalf. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’ll talk to Jon tomorrow,” Shane said. He rose to his feet and prodded Brendon in the direction of the water closet to brush his teeth. “I can’t promise anything. There are some, like Lord Ross, who will be watching you very closely for any reason to delay or cancel the wedding.”
“Why is Lord Ross so adamant against it?” Brendon asked, around his toothbrush. “He’s Ryan’s father, isn’t he?”
Shane nodded and passed Brendon a glass of water with which to rinse. “Lord Ross believes if the king and queen are going to allow the prince to marry a man, he should be one of noble blood.”
Brendon couldn’t find fault with that reasoning. His expression was glum when he glanced up at the looking glass. “Specifically,” Shane continued, “he believes it should be his son.”
“Oh,” Brendon said. He let Shane pluck the toothbrush from his fingers and lead him back into the bedchamber.
“Ryan is, technically, Prince Spencer’s valet de chambre, though he functions as more of a secretary, than anything,” Shane said. “At the time of the appointment, it was Lord Ross’s best prospect for his son. Now he is furious he didn’t consider the possibility of a love match between the two of them.”
“But I thought…I was under the impression that Ryan and Jonathan were…” he trailed off, because Spencer had never actually said as much, and certainly you didn’t gossip about a romance between a Lord’s son and a valet.
“Lord Ross doesn’t know that,” Shane said. He’d make quick work of the fastenings on Brendon’s coat and shirt, but left Brendon to change into his nightgown unassisted.
“Ryan and Prince Spencer have been quite close since their births. Lord Ross wouldn’t be the first person to assume there was a romance between the two of them. Anyway, until Lord Ross passes on, Ryan won’t be making any formal promises to Jonathan.”
From what Spencer had told Brendon of his friendship with Ryan, the two of them sounded a lot more like brothers than anything else. He nodded anyway. “When Spencer is king, he’ll change that,” he said. “Ryan will be able to marry whoever he wants, and so will everyone else.”
Shane gave Brendon a wide grin. “Spencer will be a wonderful king, especially with you as his consort.”
“You don’t even know me,” Brendon protested.
“I might as well, as much as Spencer has gone on about you,” Shane said.
“He…he spoke of me to you?”
“At length,” Shane agreed. “To me, and Ryan, and Jonathan, and the princesses, and anyone who would listen, really. And since we all have to listen…”
Brendon laughed before he could censor himself, delighted. “I still can’t believe this isn’t all just a dream. That I won’t wake up tomorrow back home with my aunt and uncle.”
Shane turned back the sheets and replaced the cool coals in the warmer with new. “I’m sure it will all sink in once you’ve spent the morning being measured and prodded by Guy,” he said. “You should sleep. I’ll speak to Jon about finding some time for you and the prince tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Shane,” Brendon said, sincerely. Shane gave him another brief smile as he finished extinguishing the candles on his way out of the room, until the only light left was from the fireplace.
Brendon thought he would be too anxious and excited to rest, but within a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep.
*
Despite Shane’s attempts, it was several days before Brendon was able to see Spencer in private. In the interim, he’d been through several fittings with Guy, and had begun lessons with his tutors. Andrew, borrowed from lessons with the princesses, had been much relieved to find Brendon already had decent grasp on German and French.
Though he’d stopped going to school at twelve, he’d always read whatever he could get his hands on, and his mother often spoke to them in French and her native tongue. German he’d picked up from their neighbour.
The political and historical lessons with Adam, on the other hand, were overwhelming and confusing, and Brendon was glad there would hopefully be many years before Spencer acceded to the throne. Even then, Brendon wouldn’t have any real power, and the people of the kingdom could be glad of that.
“You know that isn’t true,” Shane told him, when Brendon said as much one night. “Spencer chose you because he sees you as an equal. He wants everyone in the land to feel as if they have a voice, and as the common born prince consort, the people will look to you for guidance.”
“I’m not fit to be an example for anyone,” Brendon said.
“Prince Spencer chose you,” Shane repeated. “Do you think he’d do that if he didn’t believe in you?”
Brendon didn’t know if Spencer’s belief in him was justified, was the problem.
*
The royal family gathered in salon after dinner most evenings. The first evening the godparents held court and kept things from being too awkward. Since then Brendon had spent the time silently observing, afraid to enter into the casual conversation. He was acutely aware of how out-of-place he was.
Besides the king, queen, Spencer and the princesses, Ryan and Jonathan often dined alongside the family, as well, despite Brendon’s previous understanding of a valet’s function and relationship to his master.
Towards the end of the week, Jacqueline, looking bored of Ryan’s droning on about some piece of theatre he’d recently seen, said, “Brendon, Spencer says you play the piano.”
Brendon chanced a look at Ryan, though he didn’t seem very put-out by the interruption. “A little.”
“More than a little,” Spencer said. “He was going to be a composer, before his parents passed away.”
Brendon gave Spencer a look of exasperation. “I said I’d have liked to be one,” he said.
Spencer took his hand, and Brendon fought the urge to pull away, with the eyes of the royalty on them. “Why don’t you play for us, Brendon,” King Jeffrey said.
“Yes, do,” Jacqueline agreed quickly. She was usually the one to play in the evening, and was fairly decent at it, too, but Brendon had early gotten the impression that she didn’t care for playing the piano.
“I wouldn’t know what to play,” Brendon protested.
“Mother just got me a songbook by Moore,” Jacqueline prodded.
Really, as nervous as Brendon was about playing, it probably reflected more poorly upon him if he kept refusing the princess. He went to the piano, spread open Jacqueline’s songbook to the first song, and began to play. His mother had been fond of Moore, and Brendon knew most of the older tunes, so it was easy.
Ryan and the twins sang together for a while, and then lost interest after the first few songs. Brendon was ready to stop playing when Spencer came to sit beside him. “You should play this one,” Spencer said, flicking forward a few pages.
Brendon ducked his head, giving Spencer a sidelong grin. “I can’t sing that to you in front of your parents,” he said.
Spencer smiled back, and oh, how Brendon longed to be alone with him. “They aren’t paying any attention. Anyway, it’s in Jacqueline’s book.”
Brendon hesitated, and Spencer leaned closer, nose brushing Brendon’s cheek. Was it because he was royalty, and unused to people telling him how to behave, or was it just because he was Spencer, that he did these things right out in the open, where anyone could see? “Play it for me,” he murmured.
Clearing his throat, Brendon sat up straighter. He nudged Spencer gently in his side, and began to play the song. There was some tittering laughter from the twins, which Brendon resolutely ignored, as he began to sing. Spencer watched him, something unfamiliar about the expression on his face as he did so. It made Brendon feel hot all over, made his voice catch as he sang of roses and sweet kisses.
“You are too modest, Brendon,” Queen Ginger said, when he’d finished. Brendon started. He’d nearly forgotten anyone was present, other than Spencer. “What a lovely voice you have. Jacqueline has finally found someone to entertain us in her stead.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Brendon said, and avoided looking Spencer in the eye. “Of course I’ll play whenever you desire.”
“As delightful as Moore is, perhaps you could play something of more…substance,” King Jeffrey said.
Brendon smiled into his shoulder. It reminded him of the playful bickering between his mother and father during the long winter nights, Brendon taking his family’s requests at the piano bench.
It was late when the family finally began to head to their bedchambers. Spencer and Ryan left while Brendon was finishing a conversation with Crystal. Once Crystal had gone, Brendon was a little disappointed to find that Spencer hadn’t waited to bid him goodnight.
Jonathan was outside the salon when Brendon left, and took him by the arm, ushering him down the hall and around the corner. “Wha-” Brendon began, and Jon shushed him.
There was a light on in one of the rooms Brendon passed every day, but was forever empty. Jon all but shoved Brendon inside, and closed the door behind him. Brendon’s protests died when he saw Spencer standing by the window.
“Oh,” Brendon said, and didn’t get any further before Spencer had him wrapped in his arms, their lips pressed together. “Oh,” Brendon said again, a long moment later, when Spencer drew back just enough to meet his gaze.
“You sounded amazing.” Spencer breathed hot and damp on Brendon’s cheek, pressing kisses there and along his jaw. “It was so difficult to keep my hands to myself.”
“Spencer,” Brendon said. It was hard to remember why this was a bad idea when Spencer’s hands were roaming over Brendon’s hips and up his back, tangling in his hair to lead Brendon into another kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” Brendon said, panting, lips still brushing Spencer’s. “You’re living down the hall and I see you less than I did before we were engaged.”
“It’ll be better soon,” Spencer promised. “Father finally settled with Lord Ross on the date. We’ll be married on the twenty-fifth.”
“That’s so quick,” Brendon said. He was having trouble speaking with the way Spencer was mouthing at his neck, just above the collar of his jacket. “My, ah…my brothers courted their wives for months. Matthew didn’t marry Mary for over a year and half.”
Spencer drew back a bit, hands light on Brendon’s waist. “Is it too soon?” he asked. “If you want to wait-”
“No,” Brendon said quickly. He felt bold, leaning in first for another kiss. “It’s all overwhelming, but…” Over the past week and a half, Brendon had often questioned his decision, when he was being pestered by Guy, or interrogated by Lord Ross, or having monarchical law drilled into him. Here, in Spencer’s arms, Brendon knew he’d made the right choice.
“Good,” Spencer said. “I rather think with as often as I visited you at the market, our courtship has gone on long enough.”
Put that way, Brendon had to agree, though he’d never thought of their visits that way before. “You mean…all that time, you…you…”
“Wanted you?” Spencer finished. His hands were roaming again. He grabbed a handful of Brendon’s clothing and pulled him closer, palms firm and rough on Brendon’s back. “Would you-”
“Spencer.” Jon was sticking his head in the door and Brendon jumped. He tried to pull away, but Spencer held firm. “You need to get back to your chambers.”
Spencer let out a long, steadying breath. For a brief moment, he placed his forehead against Brendon’s and took both of Brendon’s hands in his own. “Brendon, I-”
“Spence!” Ryan snapped, and Spencer scowled over his shoulder.
“I’m coming,” Spencer snapped back. He pressed one more, quick kiss to Brendon’s lips and said, distractedly, “Sleep well,” before allowing Ryan and Jon to drag him away.
*
Brendon’s family was invited to be guests of the king and queen for the wedding and holiday celebrations to follow. They said he could invite whoever he wanted, and so he’d added his friends from Blissford as well, Dallon and Ian. He was going crazy only seeing Spencer at mealtimes and in the salon after dinner. Every word was carefully chosen in the presence of the royal family. Therefore it was quite a relief when his family and friends arrived.
They’d been given chambers near Brendon’s, and in the morning after their arrival, a private breakfast just for them had been arranged in one of the smaller dining rooms. It was a joyous reunion, and Brendon was so thankful to see them again and be in their company that the longing for his parents’ presence lessened.
“Shall they be calling you princess?” Daniel teased.
Dallon ruffled Brendon’s hair. “You’ll look fetching in a tiara,” he said.
Brendon shoved him off, flushing bright red. He still didn’t know what the queen had planned to do with the tiara. “I’ll be…” he trailed off, because it still didn’t quite seem real. “I’ll be Prince Brendon, Duke of Edinburgh.”
“That’s-we don’t have to actually call you Prince Brendon, do we?” Ian asked, brow arched.
Before, Brendon might have thrown a bit of his bread at him, but now he thought of what Victoria would have to say about his table manners. “You better hadn’t,” he said.
“Do you get to hand out titles?” Dallon asked. “I could be okay with an earldom.”
“Oh, just an earldom,” Brendon snorted. Victoria would be displeased about that, too. It was so nice to be allowed to be himself, without fear of censure. Soon every eye in the kingdom would be on him.
“Sorry, Duke of Edinburgh,” Dallon said with a smirk.
“I still can’t believe they’re letting Prince Spencer do this,” Kara said. “What about an heir?”
“Er…” Brendon took a long swallow from his water glass. “Pete-that is, one of Spencer’s godparents-said…” Now that Brendon thought back on what Pete had said, there was an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Well, Jackie, or Crystal…Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Listen to him, will you,” Matthew said, “Spencer, Jackie, Crystal, just like that.”
“Well.” Brendon sat up straighter. “I’m not very well going to call my husband Your Highness.” Which was all very well to say to his siblings, but sometimes hard to remember on his own.
“Your husband,” Kara sighed and drew Brendon close with an arm around his shoulder. The touch reminded him fiercely of their mother. “I can’t believe-our little brother! Mum and Dad would be so proud.”
*
Pete, Ashlee, and Patrick were regular guests at the palace. Though Brendon’s initial impression of Pete had been less than favourable, all three were quickly becoming good friends. They had taken charge of the wedding and the king and queen had gladly handed over control.
Brendon was thankful for the distraction when they called him away from his lessons for details pertaining to the ceremony and celebration. There were dances to be learned, lines of the ceremony to be memorised, and they would gather in his chambers with Brendon, helping him along.
When Brendon had screwed up his lines for about the hundredth time, only a few nights before the wedding, he was filled with a sort of dread and panic. “Lord Ross is absolutely right,” he said, head in hands. “I don’t belong here.”
“Kid, trust us, you’re MFEO,” Pete said, clapping a hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “This is what we do for a living, match people up and shit.” Seriously, the man had the most bewildering manner of speech.
Ashlee rolled her eyes. “What he means is, at the end of the day, all that matters is how you feel about Spencer, and how he feels about you. All this other stuff, it’s just one day.”
A very important day, where every noble in the country, and some from abroad would all be present, watching Brendon like hawks. Anyway, it was easy for the godparents to say-they somehow got away with having their threesome without so much as a raised brow, probably because they could turn everyone into toads, or something.
“Come on,” Ashlee said, prodding him to his feet. “We can work on the dance instead. Maybe it’ll help clear your head.”
Brendon liked dancing. He was good at dancing, even if he’d never learned these dances before. A world-weary Patrick was his partner, and Brendon wasn’t sure how that had happened, though Patrick had mumbled about losing a bet. But tonight, he failed at even this, stumbling over himself and stepping on Patrick’s toes until he gave up in disgust.
“Chin up,” Patrick said. “This time Saturday you’ll be a married man.”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, waggling his eyebrows. “A married man alone in his chambers with his new husband.”
“Pete!” Brendon said, scandalised.
“Speaking of which,” Pete went on. “Of course there’s our official wedding gift, which will be presented after the ceremony, but I thought it would be better to give you this part in private.”
From within his jacket pocket, Pete produced a small, purple glass bottle, filled with what looked to be oil. Brendon was hesitant to take it, tipping it side to side for some sort of clue.
“For the wedding night,” Pete explained. Ashlee and Patrick groaned in dismay at the same time. “What? Someone has to prepare these kids!” He turned his attention back to Brendon. “It’ll help ease the way, so to speak.”
Brendon gave him a blank look. “Oh, look, how am I supposed to resist when they’re so adorable and innocent?” Pete said, mostly to himself. “You get your fingers all slick, and then you stick them up Spencer’s-”
“Oh my God,” Brendon exclaimed, scandalised and embarrassed on Spencer’s behalf. Of course he understood how these things worked, with four older brothers and Dallon and Ian for best friends. That didn’t mean he expected anyone, not even Pete Wentz, to be so forward.
“Pete,” Brendon said, ushering him to the door of his chambers, Ashlee and Patrick following and failing miserably at their attempts to cover their laughter. “I am grateful to you for all your help, but there are certain aspects of my life with Spencer which we will not discuss!”
After seeing them out, he tucked the bottle away out of sight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, or what Spencer might think of it, the rest of the night.
*
The day before the wedding was the liveliest yet. On top of all the guests milling about, there were dozens of deliveries being made to the kitchens in preparation of the wedding breakfast for the royal family and the feasting which would last throughout the entire day and evening.
Somehow Brendon had missed the fact that Ian and Shane were cousins, and so they, along with Dallon and Pete, spent a lot of time with Brendon in his chambers. Pete, who apparently knew everyone in the kingdom, was also good friends with Guy, and spent the day providing insight and opinions as Guy put the finishing touches on Brendon’s wedding garments. Brendon was so nervous it was hard to breathe, and he appreciated the inanity of his friends’ conversation, which helped distract him.
After dinner, Queen Ginger came to Brendon’s chambers bearing a smallish, silver box. She looked over his wedding suit, plucked at the pearls and golden thread, and gave Brendon a warm smile. “Very princely,” she murmured.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Brendon said, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“Have a seat,” she said, patting the sette beside her.
Brendon was really trying to become more comfortable around the king and queen. He knew his awkwardness only made them more uncomfortable in turn. All the same, he felt every second as though he were about to make some unforgivable mistake around them, and be cast out.
The queen had insisted on less formality from him, but Brendon couldn’t bring himself to address her with any sort of familiarity. He’d managed so far by avoiding addressing her by name or title altogether.
He seated himself beside her, noticing her perfectly arranged skirts, and tried not to jump when she laid a hand over his, clasped in his lap. “My darling boy, whatever is troubling you?”
“Just nerves,” Brendon said. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
“The night before my wedding, the Queen came to visit me, as well,” Queen Ginger said. “I doubt you could be any more nervous now than I was then.
Brendon snorted, and immediately cursed himself, eyes going wide, because you did not snort in the queen’s presence, least of all in response to something she said. “I’m sorry,” he said, fervently.
Queen Ginger sighed. “However did Spencer manage to get you to agree to marry him?” she asked.
“I’m...I’m sorry?” It seemed the question should be the other way around.
“It’s a wonder you can look him in the eye, or speak his name, let alone how you will visit your husbandly duties upon him,” she continued.
Brendon was sure he’d never been so red in his life. He was half-convinced he was dreaming, because there was absolutely no way the queen was having this conversation with him. Suddenly, it occurred to him to wonder if fairy godparents could change their visages. Could it be Pete talking to him right now, in the queen’s guise?
“Brendon, my child,” the queen said, “if you were a girl, do you know the things we would have already discussed? The embarrassing rituals that would be expected of you?”
Mutely, Brendon shook his head. “Jeffery’s mother had far too intimate knowledge of what took place in our marriage bed, in those early days,” the queen said.
“We never cared much for one another. I decided early on that when it was my daughter-in-law, I’d do far better a job. With love matches there is far less cause to worry about securing an heir. Obviously there is no precedence for your marriage to my son, and we are all figuring this out together. We will simply have to take Peter for his word that you will have issue.”
Queen Ginger paused and squeezed Brendon’s hand, then released it. She tucked a finger under his chin and gave a gentle nudge until Brendon lifted his head and met her gaze, flushing madly. “I’m doing a rather poor job of reassuring you, aren’t I?” She had a rueful smile on her lips.
“It’s alright, ma’am,” Brendon said. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Oh, this is all beside the point,” she went on, tone lighter, “which is, I don’t know how it is my son managed to get past this pervasive obsequiousness of yours.”
That stung a little, because how else was Brendon supposed to be? Until a few short weeks ago, he’d been expected to be this way. It wasn’t so easy a thing to change overnight. “He didn’t have to try very hard,” Brendon finally admitted. “It’s probably shameful how easily I gave in, when he asked me to call him by his name.”
“If it was anything like my own experience has been, I doubt that very much.”
It took Brendon a moment to realise he was being teased. By the queen, no less, and wondered if he’d entirely misunderstood the tone of this whole conversation. “I’m sorry,” he said, and had to physically clamp his mouth shut against the automatic “your majesty,” that tried to escape. “Ginger.”
The use of her name made the queen grant him a brief, stunning flash of a grin, in which Brendon saw her son. “Lovely,” she said. “Now.” She passed him the silver, jeweled box she held in her lap. “I wanted to give you this tonight.”
Brendon took the box which weighed heavily in his hands. He undid the latch and lifted the lid, balancing the box on his knees. Inside was a golden circlet with rubies, pearls, and diamonds inset.
Ginger leaned close to look over his shoulder and said in a soft voice, “Lord Ross nearly had a fit when he discovered I was giving you this particular crown.” She lifted it from where it was nestled in silver satin. “It is traditionally worn by the second son of the king and queen. Why don’t you try it on?”
Brendon’s fingers felt thick and clumsy as he lifted the circlet out. He went to the looking glass by his dresser and settled it on top his curls. Queen Ginger came up behind him, laying her hands on his shoulders, and smiled. In that moment, Brendon was so thankful for her, in the absence of his own mother.
“It suits you quite nicely,” she said.
Brendon rather thought it looked horribly out of place, but kept the thought to himself.
*
Though Brendon was having some difficulty adjusting to palace life, the luxury of a nightly bath was one he indulged in quite happily. After visiting with the queen and being pestered by Guy and the others all day, Brendon let the softly scented water sink into his muscles and soothe his nerves.
Shane was in and out of the water closet and bed chambers, preparing things for the morning. He’d asked Brendon which nightshirt he’d like for tomorrow night, so that Shane could take it to the prince’s rooms in the morning. That more than anything else brought home the reality that tomorrow night, Brendon would be wed. After that, even with the bed was soft and coals heated the sheets, Brendon could not relax enough to sleep.
It had to be after midnight when Brendon heard the creak of his door opening and started, sitting straight up in bed. The heavy drapes surrounding his bed were parted to reveal Spencer, who gave him a grin as he climbed into bed. Brendon shrank away, clenching the sheets tightly in his fists. “What are you doing?” Brendon hissed.
“I didn’t see you once all day,” Spencer whispered, coming closer. He leaned in for a kiss and Brendon turned his head, the touch landing on his jaw.
“We’ll see plenty of each other tomorrow,” Brendon said. “But if they find you in here, I’ll be in such trouble.”
“I’d be the one in trouble,” Spencer said, “sneaking into your room.” He seemed content with Brendon’s jaw. His lips trailed lightly along the curve of it, then pressed a kiss to Brendon’s ear before drifting lower.
Brendon shivered at the touch and ducked his head. “They’d say I’d sed--seduced you.” Spencer’s mouth had found a place that made heat pool in low in Brendon’s belly. Brendon nudged him away.
Spencer gave him a droll look. “Not yet you haven’t.”
“Spencer,” Brendon said, distressed.
Spencer chuckled, forehead dropping to rest against Brendon’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll give up so easily tomorrow night,” he said.
Though he knew Spencer was only teasing, Brendon was sincere when he answered, “Tomorrow night I won’t deny you anything.”
Spencer’s eyes were dark when he lifted his head. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and leaned in to kiss Brendon again, his touch lingering. His lips were slick and they glided smoothly across Brendon’s. Reflexively, Brendon licked his own, and when his tongue brushed Spencer’s lips, Spencer’s breath caught. Tentatively, Brendon tried again, this time tracing the seam of Spencer’s mouth. He was rewarded with a rumbling moan and Spencer parting his lips in welcome.
It was wet and messy and sort of amazing, the way their mouths slid together, over and over, every time opening a little more, until Brendon grew bold again. He licked past Spencer’s lips, lapped at the roof of his mouth. Spencer pressed him deeper into the mattress and pulled back with a little growl. His teeth nipped at Brendon’s lower lip and the sensation shot straight down Brendon’s spine.
“Tomorrow night,” Spencer said, breathless, and it took all of Brendon’s strength not to grab him by the collar and jerk him back down and say to hell with the rules and tradition. Instead he nodded shakily and held his tongue. “Oh,” Spencer sighed, voice pitched low in a way that made Brendon feel hot and helpless. “I love you.”
Brendon was struck speechless by the words, and it was a good thing Spencer scrambled out of bed then, because there was no way Brendon would have pushed him away again after hearing them. With Spencer gone, the bed was far too empty. Brendon rolled onto his stomach, hardness pressed into the mattress, and wished for the morning to come as quickly as possible.
*
Part 2
Author: Mokuyoubi
Pairing: Spencer/Brendon (background Ryan/Jon, Pete/Patrick/Ashlee)
Rating: NC-17
WC: 20,674
Summary: Sequel/epilogue to my Brencer Cinderella fic. Basically my excuse to write porn that turned into an actual story, of sorts, about teenage virgins figuring themselves and each other out. IDEK.
A/N: Thanks to desert_neon for an early beta and feedback, and redorchids for making this go from 6k to 20k. Muse and I looked it over before posting, but I’m sure there are still errors here.
Oh, there are so many historical inaccuracies in here. This is some magical AU, so let’s just blame all the stuff that’s wrong on that. This is technically underage, since they’re both 17, but they’re married, and it’s historical, so. Take it how you please.
This is my first fic in a million years, so I might still be a bit rusty...
There was an unsettling silence in the carriage as the mill faded in the distance. Zachary was riding in front with the driver. The man who had carried Brendon’s shoe was introduced as Ryan, and Brendon felt dismayed on his behalf, to have suffered the indignity of carrying around his old work boot for days on end. Spencer’s valet, Jonathan, had also accompanied them on the journey. Both he and Ryan were studying Brendon with a speculative expression.
Brendon fought the urge to squirm. The condition of his old rags was disgraceful, covered in soot and flour, threadbare hems and worn patches. In a habit born from years of his mother’s chagrin over its constant state of disarray, Brendon smoothed his hair down. Spencer kept his fingers laced through Brendon’s all the while, and Brendon knew if he looked, he’d see his tanned and dirty fingers next to Spencer’s perfect, pale ones.
At last, Ryan leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “Spencer says you prefer Bennett to Dupin,” he said.
Brendon sat upright, looking first at Ryan, then to Spencer. He remembered Spencer talking about Ryan’s own opinion on the matter. Spencer said, “Honestly, Ryan, you couldn’t wait until we were home at least, to start in on him?”
Home¸ Brendon thought to himself, the palace, and had to take a deep breath. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked. He was so close, fingers curling under Brendon’s chin.
They’d been close before, but never with an audience. Never before had Brendon let himself expect anything more to come of it. Now if he just leaned forward, he’d be kissing Spencer, and that was allowed.
Ryan cleared his throat. Blinking, Brendon drew away from Spencer. “I’m fine,” he said softly, then louder, swallowing, “I’m fine. To answer your question, Ryan, I think Dupin is a bit too revolutionary for my tastes.”
Ryan snorted. “Says the miller marrying the prince.”
Brendon blushed and Spencer scowled at Ryan. Jonathan nudged an elbow in Ryan’s side. It seemed awfully bold a move for a valet, but then, from what Spencer had told Brendon already, Jonathan sounded more like a friend than a servant.
“I’m not going to apologise,” Ryan went on. “If that makes him blush, he’s going to need to develop much tougher skin to deal with palace life.”
There it was, again, that fear sneaking up in Brendon’s chest, making him draw a steadying breath. What was he thinking? Saying yes to Spencer meant everything that came along with being a prince. Brendon could never say no to Spencer, but how was he supposed to fit into the royal lifestyle?
Jonathan leaned into Ryan’s side and whispered something in his ear that made Ryan’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “I’m sorry, Brendon,” he said, though he didn’t sound very sincere.
Silence fell again. Brendon wanted to say a million things. To explain to Spencer why he’d come to the ball, and why he’d behaved as he had, and to apologise for just running away. He was all too aware of Ryan’s shrewd gaze to actually open his mouth. Hopefully they would have a chance to speak in private, soon.
*
Any hopes for a private moment with Spencer were dashed when they arrived at the palace. There were dozens of servants waiting to attend them, and three came to whisk Brendon away. He clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer just laughed and brushed a kiss over Brendon’s cheek, saying, “It’ll be fine. They’ll show you to your rooms, and you can change. We’ll see one another tonight.”
Brendon noticed the way the servants were looking at the ground or each other, anywhere but at Spencer and himself. It made him a little queasy. “Brendon,” Spencer said, more softly. Ryan was giving them another of those appraising looks, and Spencer stepped closer to Brendon, pitched his voice low. “It’ll be fine, trust me?”
“Always,” Brendon agreed, immediately, and let the servants lead him off to a side entrance.
Brendon had seen the palace once or twice, from a distance. He could only stare in awe as he was led through the halls, at the intricate ceiling tiles and patterned rugs, walls hung in paintings of kings and queens past, chandeliers dripping crystals, casting sparkling light over the gold fixtures and trim.
At last they came to a suite of rooms that Brendon was informed were now his. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of having not only his own bed, dressed in thick, warm, soft-looking blankets, but having a separate study as well, when they led him through to the water closet.
There was a man waiting there, dressed in a red and cream outfit much in the same fashion as Jonathan’s. He took Brendon in, head to toe, and said, “I think I will handle this on my own.” The other three men left, closing the doors behind them.
“I’m Shane, and I’ll be your valet now,” the man said.
Brendon wasn’t sure what to do with that. “I’ve never had a valet before.”
A smirk toyed around Shane’s lips. “I had assumed as much. As your valet, I will see to all your personal needs.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Brendon said. He didn’t want to offend anyone, but he’d been dressing himself just fine for seventeen years.
Shane considered him for a moment, head quirked to the side. “I’m here to make your life easier, not more difficult, so if you desire to bathe and shave on your own, by all means, carry on. However, it is my job to make you presentable for the royal family, so until you are more familiar with how to dress yourself to their standards…”
Put that way, Brendon could see how Shane would be useful. Of course, the blinding fear over the fact that he was going to go before the king and queen was enough to override any embarrassment or resistance on his part when Shane helped him undress and led him to the bath.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Shane said. “Call for me when you’re done. I’ll just…” He plucked Brendon’s discarded clothing up from the floor, giving it a dubious look. “I’ll just put these away for you, then.”
Brendon flushed bright red as Shane closed the door behind him. His stomach was churning. Inexplicably, he longed to be in front of his fireplace at home, wrapped in blankets, reading by the firelight.
Spencer was waiting for him, though. Spencer, who wanted to marry him. Brendon couldn’t help the soft, wondering sound that escaped him at the idea. He didn’t know how he could ever, truly believe it. Spencer had come for him, had gone against his parents’ wishes and announced he was going to marry a commoner and a man. Brendon could learn to work with his valet, and he could be brave before the queen and king, to show he was worth it.
The water was scalding hot, and there were dozens of bottles and soaps lining the counter top. Brendon almost called Shane back in, completely at a loss. He scrubbed with one of the soaps until his skin was bright red, and sniffing bottle after bottle, finally guessed at which might be for his hair. It cleaned it anyway, and didn’t smell bad, or leave him looking ridiculous.
In the end, he did call for Shane to help him shave, when he realised his hands were shaking. He didn’t trust himself not to knick his own skin and show up for his meeting with the royal family bleeding all over his chin.
Shane was quick and thorough about it. He paused halfway through, grinning, and said, “You washed your hair with the elderflower cream.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you out,” Brendon murmured.
“It’s alright,” Shane said, “but you should rinse with the rosemary water before getting out.”
“What am I doing here?” Brendon asked out loud, before he could stop himself. He shot Shane a panicked look, and Shane paused in shaving, leaning back. He looked more casual with his sleeves rolled back, baring his arms.
“You’re here because Prince Spencer chose you,” Shane said. It wasn’t appropriate, Brendon knew, for servants to say things like that. Especially ones who were strangers. Then again, Brendon didn’t feel any better than a servant himself.
“I’m terrified,” he admitted.
Shane went back to work, tilting Brendon’s face toward him, drawing the razor along his jaw. “There will be a lot of times you’ll want to run away, I’d imagine,” he said, finally. “They’re going to dress you up like them, and teach you how to walk and how to talk, and every moment will feel like a test they’re waiting for you to fail.”
“That’s hardly reassuring,” Brendon mumbled.
Shane shrugged. “I thought you might appreciate someone being honest with you. There’s no precedence for what you and the prince are doing. For him to marry a commoner, and a man…love matches are scandalous enough when both parties are of noble blood.”
Brendon was silent as Shane finished shaving, then gave him the rosemary water for his hair. Shane left him to towel off and was waiting in the bedroom with an outfit laid out. It wasn’t as fancy as what the godparents had conjured for the ball, but it was still far grander than anything Brendon had ever owned.
By the time Shane had done up all the buttons and arranged Brendon’s collar to his satisfaction, Brendon was nothing but a mess of nerves. Another servant was waiting to lead Brendon away outside his door, and Shane told him he’d still be there when Brendon returned. While Brendon doubted he’d require help dressing for bed, he nonetheless took comfort in the knowledge.
*
Brendon could hear the raised voices before he got anywhere near the receiving room.
“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” a man was shouting. “His father was a book keeper and his mother came over with some missionaries from Hawai’i, of all the places in the world!”
“Be careful, Lord Ross,” Spencer said. “Those are the parents of my future consort and your future prince, of which you speak.”
The servant darted Brendon a quick, curious look, and led him to the open door. Jonathan was just inside and ushered him in with a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“That could actually work in our favour,” another man said, bent over some papers at a desk. “With all their little princes and princesses on the various islands, and the tribals still claiming sovereignty-”
“Brendon,” Spencer said, noticing him. The man speaking fell silent, and another man, tall and stout, and red in the face, gave Brendon a sneer. Brendon tried to ignore them and focus on Spencer, who came to his side and took his hand, leading him further into the room.
The king and queen were seated on a sofa by the window, and Brendon didn’t know what he was supposed to do, or say. “Mother, Father, allow me to introduce Brendon Urie.”
Brendon bowed deeply, murmured, “Your Majesties,” and waited.
“You may rise,” the king said. There was nothing unkind about his tone, or the expression on his face.
“I suppose he cleans up nicely enough,” Ryan said.
The tall man gave Ryan a dark look and leaned in to grumble something under his breath, close to the king.
“Yes, yes, Lord Ross,” the king said. “And of course that will be addressed. Mister Urie, please have a seat.”
Brendon let Spencer lead him to a chair, taking the one beside him. Everyone was staring at their clasped hands. “We’ve heard a great deal about you,” Queen Ginger said. Brendon fought the urge to laugh nervously.
“Young man,” the king said, face very serious, “my son has been vehement that your intentions are pure. I think if that were the case, you’d have turned down his proposal, knowing what was best for him.” Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand tightly.
“Oh, Jeffrey,” the queen chided. She sounded weary, and Brendon felt inexplicably guilty. “The contract Lord Ross is drawing up will assuage most of our concerns. Though there is the question of an heir.”
Brendon hadn’t thought of any of these things when Spencer had proposed. Perhaps the king was right. Brendon had only thought, selfishly, of how desperately in love with Spencer he was.
“Mum,” Spencer complained. “Father was the son of the second child. One of the twins-”
“It is not up to the twins to provide an heir,” the king said sharply.
The conversation devolved at that point, and there was a lot of yelling about Spencer’s duties, and noble blood, and marriage contracts. A part of Brendon wanted to just apologise and promise to go away if it would fix things, but Spencer was clinging to his hand like Brendon was the only important thing in the room.
“I would still like to know how this young man made his way into the ball in the first place,” Lord Ross said. Ryan was glaring daggers at his father. Brendon wondered what Lord Ross would do if he knew the kind of literature his son and the prince were reading.
“As would I,” King Jeffrey said. “Certainly someone capable of such cunning and subterfuge could also be capable of charming himself a prince.”
“Father, don’t be ridiculous,” Spencer said.
King Jeffrey gave him a quelling look. “Do not take that tone with me. You’ve gotten us all into this mess, Spencer, with your little spectacle at the ball. The boy will explain himself.”
Brendon felt his mouth working, but couldn’t make any sound come out. It was such a ridiculous suggestion. Brendon couldn’t even charm his own aunt and uncle into treating him kindly. The idea that he could trick the prince into loving him was absurd, though, perhaps from the king’s perspective, the only way to explain it.
And what of the party? How could Brendon even begin to explain the fairy godparents? “I was given an invitation,” he stuttered.
“Lord Beckett’s invitation, it would seem,” one of the men supplied.
“Lord Beckett is away in Spain,” Lord Ross said. “Are we to believe he passed his invitation along to you to go in his stead?”
“I-” Brendon gave Spencer a desperate look.
Spencer squeezed his hand and said, “It’s alright, just tell them, whatever it is.”
“There was a man. He said he was-” Brendon couldn’t bring himself to say the words fairy godparents in the presence of the king and queen. “He said his name was Pete.” Something about the words made Ryan and Jonathan smile at one another.
“Am I late to the party?” a familiar voice asked, and Pete came strolling into the room, as if conjured from Brendon’s words. On either arm were Patrick and Ashlee.
Lord Ross looked furious, but the king and queen seemed pleased to see them. “Peter,” the queen said, and met each of them with a kiss to each cheek. “Patrick, dear Ashlee.”
“Ginger.” Pete gave her a wolfish grin, and Brendon was scandalised on her behalf. The queen didn’t seem to mind, though. “Jeffrey, I see you’ve met my Brendon.”
“Your Brendon?” Queen Ginger said. She looked at Brendon again, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Do you know them?” Brendon asked of Spencer side-long.
“Ashlee and Patrick are the prince’s godparents,” Ryan said, almost gleefully. “Patrick gifted him with wit and song, and…” Spencer turned slightly pink as Ryan continued, “Ashlee gifted him with grace and beauty.”
Brendon couldn’t help but smile, murmuring, “They did quite admirably.” Then, remembering where they were, and who was watching, he turned his attention back to Pete. “What about you? With what did you gift him?”
“I gave him you, didn’t I?” Pete said. He turned to the queen and king. “I was the one who got him all dolled up and into the ball. Bill didn’t mind our using his invitation, I can assure you.” Sometimes, Pete’s turns of phrase made no sense at all to Brendon.
The queen narrowed her eyes. “I think you had better explain yourself.”
Ashlee was the one who spoke. “You both wanted true love for your children, but that isn’t something we can promise. He needed to find it for himself.”
“And when there were obstacles put in the way, I helped Brendon to overcome them,” Pete concluded.
“But, Peter,” the king said, “this boy-”
“Brendon is honest, hardworking, and rather painfully sincere,” Pete said.
“His intentions toward your son are indeed, the purest,” Patrick interrupted. “You shouldn’t worry about anything else.”
The queen wrung her hands in her laps, and then stood and came to Brendon and Spencer. She ran a hand over Spencer’s head, smoothing his hair back and cupped his cheek. “My son,” she said. “I should have trusted you to know your heart.”
She offered her hand to Brendon, who took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles uncertainly. The queen granted him a small smile and said, “I think, Lord Ross, that with the assurances of Spencer’s godparents, we may proceed without further consideration.”
Pete winked at Brendon as if to say, didn’t I tell you it would all work out in the end? Brendon was grateful, he really was, but he also thought Pete could have done things in a much less roundabout way and saved everyone a lot of trouble.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Ross said, “as you mentioned earlier, there remains the question of issue?”
The queen had a pensive look, and the king sighed heavily. Pete clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention. “If you will have some patience, and trust in me, I promise you’ll have no cause to worry over the existence on an heir.”
Queen Ginger and the king exchanged a look, and then the king rose.
“Very well,” King Jeffrey said. “There will be another ball to formally announce the engagement. He’ll need a title before then. A dukedom, I should think.” At that, Lord Ross looked as though he was suffering an apoplexy.
“Awesome,” Pete said, and clapped his hands. “So, that’s all settled, we should do dinner now. Leave the business for later.”
“Oh Peter,” Queen Ginger said, in a fondly exasperated tone. Pete put his arm around her waist, and cajoled her towards the door. She went, laughing, and pushing at his chest.
Apparently, Pete’s suggestion was as good as royal decree, because the gathering dispersed, Jeffrey following after his wife and Pete, talking in low tones to Patrick. Lord Ross was still glaring at Brendon, and it was most unsettling.
“Sp-your hi…I’ve caused so much trouble,” Brendon whispered.
Spencer shook his head. “You’re not going to start that again, are you?” he said.
“Spencer,” Brendon said, anxious.
“They were just worried about me, but they trust my godparents, and they’ll come to see that what Pete and Patrick said about you is true.”
Brendon hoped that what Pete and Patrick had said was true. Brendon didn’t feel honest and pure. He felt rather selfish, putting the future of the kingdom in jeopardy.
“Come on,” Spencer said. He gave Brendon an impulsive kiss, quick and soft, on his mouth.
“Spencer,” Brendon admonished, feeling himself go pink. There were so many of the king’s men still about, including the imposing Lord Ross.
“You can meet Crystal and Jacqueline,” Spencer said, and tugged Brendon to his feet by his hand.
Brendon would much rather go hide in his rooms, but he told himself to be brave, for Spencer. Spencer had gone against the king and queen’s wishes for him. Brendon could make it through a royal dinner.
“That sounds lovely,” Brendon said.
*
The princesses were indeed lovely. Brendon was happy to have them prattling at him about the newest fashions and music, and what they’d learned from their tutors recently, so he didn’t have to pay much attention to the godparents and queen discussing his future at the head of the table.
“He’ll need to see Victoria for lessons in deportment and diction. I think we can spare one or two of the girls’ tutors for languages and monarchical history,” the queen said, and made a despairing sort of ticking noise with her tongue. “Guy will need to fit him tomorrow for the wedding. And a whole new wardrobe.”
“Guy really makes the most gorgeous clothing,” Jacqueline said. “A wedding! I can’t wait to see what he’ll make for us.”
Crystal made a face. “It isn’t as exciting if there isn’t a wedding gown,” she said, then gave Brendon a speculative look. “You aren’t going to wear a gown, are you?”
“Crystal,” Spencer said, laughing at the look in Brendon’s face.
“I think he could pull it off,” Pete said.
Brendon frowned in dismay. Luckily, Queen Ginger said, “I think a white bridal suit will suffice. We’ll have to do something with the princess consort’s tiara, though.”
All this talk was making Brendon feel light-headed, dukedoms and tiaras. He took a long drink from his wine glass. The king, rather inexplicably, was giving Brendon a sympathetic look, and tipped his glass in Brendon’s direction. Brendon smiled nervously, though he didn’t feel it all, and spent most of the remainder of dinner staring at his plate and eating very little.
*
As promised, Shane was waiting for Brendon after dinner, and escorted him back to his room. “But,” Brendon protested, twisting to watch Spencer walking the opposite direction with Jonathan and Ryan on either side. “I would really like to speak with the prince on my own.”
Shane gave him a slightly incredulous smile. “I don’t think you’ll be alone with the prince again until you’re married to him.”
Brendon turned bright red when the implications caught up with him. He made a sputtering noise as Shane closed the suite doors behind them. “We’re not…I didn’t mean…” Brendon protested.
“Oh, certainly not,” Shane agreed. “They can hardly be worried about birthdates too soon after the wedding, but all the same, there would be concerns about the impropriety.”
“I just want to talk to him,” Brendon said, sinking down on the sette at the foot of his bed.
Shane paused in helping Brendon off with his boots. “I have this feeling that being your valet is going to get me into a lot of trouble,” he said.
That was ridiculous. Brendon didn’t want anyone getting into trouble on his behalf. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’ll talk to Jon tomorrow,” Shane said. He rose to his feet and prodded Brendon in the direction of the water closet to brush his teeth. “I can’t promise anything. There are some, like Lord Ross, who will be watching you very closely for any reason to delay or cancel the wedding.”
“Why is Lord Ross so adamant against it?” Brendon asked, around his toothbrush. “He’s Ryan’s father, isn’t he?”
Shane nodded and passed Brendon a glass of water with which to rinse. “Lord Ross believes if the king and queen are going to allow the prince to marry a man, he should be one of noble blood.”
Brendon couldn’t find fault with that reasoning. His expression was glum when he glanced up at the looking glass. “Specifically,” Shane continued, “he believes it should be his son.”
“Oh,” Brendon said. He let Shane pluck the toothbrush from his fingers and lead him back into the bedchamber.
“Ryan is, technically, Prince Spencer’s valet de chambre, though he functions as more of a secretary, than anything,” Shane said. “At the time of the appointment, it was Lord Ross’s best prospect for his son. Now he is furious he didn’t consider the possibility of a love match between the two of them.”
“But I thought…I was under the impression that Ryan and Jonathan were…” he trailed off, because Spencer had never actually said as much, and certainly you didn’t gossip about a romance between a Lord’s son and a valet.
“Lord Ross doesn’t know that,” Shane said. He’d make quick work of the fastenings on Brendon’s coat and shirt, but left Brendon to change into his nightgown unassisted.
“Ryan and Prince Spencer have been quite close since their births. Lord Ross wouldn’t be the first person to assume there was a romance between the two of them. Anyway, until Lord Ross passes on, Ryan won’t be making any formal promises to Jonathan.”
From what Spencer had told Brendon of his friendship with Ryan, the two of them sounded a lot more like brothers than anything else. He nodded anyway. “When Spencer is king, he’ll change that,” he said. “Ryan will be able to marry whoever he wants, and so will everyone else.”
Shane gave Brendon a wide grin. “Spencer will be a wonderful king, especially with you as his consort.”
“You don’t even know me,” Brendon protested.
“I might as well, as much as Spencer has gone on about you,” Shane said.
“He…he spoke of me to you?”
“At length,” Shane agreed. “To me, and Ryan, and Jonathan, and the princesses, and anyone who would listen, really. And since we all have to listen…”
Brendon laughed before he could censor himself, delighted. “I still can’t believe this isn’t all just a dream. That I won’t wake up tomorrow back home with my aunt and uncle.”
Shane turned back the sheets and replaced the cool coals in the warmer with new. “I’m sure it will all sink in once you’ve spent the morning being measured and prodded by Guy,” he said. “You should sleep. I’ll speak to Jon about finding some time for you and the prince tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Shane,” Brendon said, sincerely. Shane gave him another brief smile as he finished extinguishing the candles on his way out of the room, until the only light left was from the fireplace.
Brendon thought he would be too anxious and excited to rest, but within a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep.
*
Despite Shane’s attempts, it was several days before Brendon was able to see Spencer in private. In the interim, he’d been through several fittings with Guy, and had begun lessons with his tutors. Andrew, borrowed from lessons with the princesses, had been much relieved to find Brendon already had decent grasp on German and French.
Though he’d stopped going to school at twelve, he’d always read whatever he could get his hands on, and his mother often spoke to them in French and her native tongue. German he’d picked up from their neighbour.
The political and historical lessons with Adam, on the other hand, were overwhelming and confusing, and Brendon was glad there would hopefully be many years before Spencer acceded to the throne. Even then, Brendon wouldn’t have any real power, and the people of the kingdom could be glad of that.
“You know that isn’t true,” Shane told him, when Brendon said as much one night. “Spencer chose you because he sees you as an equal. He wants everyone in the land to feel as if they have a voice, and as the common born prince consort, the people will look to you for guidance.”
“I’m not fit to be an example for anyone,” Brendon said.
“Prince Spencer chose you,” Shane repeated. “Do you think he’d do that if he didn’t believe in you?”
Brendon didn’t know if Spencer’s belief in him was justified, was the problem.
*
The royal family gathered in salon after dinner most evenings. The first evening the godparents held court and kept things from being too awkward. Since then Brendon had spent the time silently observing, afraid to enter into the casual conversation. He was acutely aware of how out-of-place he was.
Besides the king, queen, Spencer and the princesses, Ryan and Jonathan often dined alongside the family, as well, despite Brendon’s previous understanding of a valet’s function and relationship to his master.
Towards the end of the week, Jacqueline, looking bored of Ryan’s droning on about some piece of theatre he’d recently seen, said, “Brendon, Spencer says you play the piano.”
Brendon chanced a look at Ryan, though he didn’t seem very put-out by the interruption. “A little.”
“More than a little,” Spencer said. “He was going to be a composer, before his parents passed away.”
Brendon gave Spencer a look of exasperation. “I said I’d have liked to be one,” he said.
Spencer took his hand, and Brendon fought the urge to pull away, with the eyes of the royalty on them. “Why don’t you play for us, Brendon,” King Jeffrey said.
“Yes, do,” Jacqueline agreed quickly. She was usually the one to play in the evening, and was fairly decent at it, too, but Brendon had early gotten the impression that she didn’t care for playing the piano.
“I wouldn’t know what to play,” Brendon protested.
“Mother just got me a songbook by Moore,” Jacqueline prodded.
Really, as nervous as Brendon was about playing, it probably reflected more poorly upon him if he kept refusing the princess. He went to the piano, spread open Jacqueline’s songbook to the first song, and began to play. His mother had been fond of Moore, and Brendon knew most of the older tunes, so it was easy.
Ryan and the twins sang together for a while, and then lost interest after the first few songs. Brendon was ready to stop playing when Spencer came to sit beside him. “You should play this one,” Spencer said, flicking forward a few pages.
Brendon ducked his head, giving Spencer a sidelong grin. “I can’t sing that to you in front of your parents,” he said.
Spencer smiled back, and oh, how Brendon longed to be alone with him. “They aren’t paying any attention. Anyway, it’s in Jacqueline’s book.”
Brendon hesitated, and Spencer leaned closer, nose brushing Brendon’s cheek. Was it because he was royalty, and unused to people telling him how to behave, or was it just because he was Spencer, that he did these things right out in the open, where anyone could see? “Play it for me,” he murmured.
Clearing his throat, Brendon sat up straighter. He nudged Spencer gently in his side, and began to play the song. There was some tittering laughter from the twins, which Brendon resolutely ignored, as he began to sing. Spencer watched him, something unfamiliar about the expression on his face as he did so. It made Brendon feel hot all over, made his voice catch as he sang of roses and sweet kisses.
“You are too modest, Brendon,” Queen Ginger said, when he’d finished. Brendon started. He’d nearly forgotten anyone was present, other than Spencer. “What a lovely voice you have. Jacqueline has finally found someone to entertain us in her stead.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Brendon said, and avoided looking Spencer in the eye. “Of course I’ll play whenever you desire.”
“As delightful as Moore is, perhaps you could play something of more…substance,” King Jeffrey said.
Brendon smiled into his shoulder. It reminded him of the playful bickering between his mother and father during the long winter nights, Brendon taking his family’s requests at the piano bench.
It was late when the family finally began to head to their bedchambers. Spencer and Ryan left while Brendon was finishing a conversation with Crystal. Once Crystal had gone, Brendon was a little disappointed to find that Spencer hadn’t waited to bid him goodnight.
Jonathan was outside the salon when Brendon left, and took him by the arm, ushering him down the hall and around the corner. “Wha-” Brendon began, and Jon shushed him.
There was a light on in one of the rooms Brendon passed every day, but was forever empty. Jon all but shoved Brendon inside, and closed the door behind him. Brendon’s protests died when he saw Spencer standing by the window.
“Oh,” Brendon said, and didn’t get any further before Spencer had him wrapped in his arms, their lips pressed together. “Oh,” Brendon said again, a long moment later, when Spencer drew back just enough to meet his gaze.
“You sounded amazing.” Spencer breathed hot and damp on Brendon’s cheek, pressing kisses there and along his jaw. “It was so difficult to keep my hands to myself.”
“Spencer,” Brendon said. It was hard to remember why this was a bad idea when Spencer’s hands were roaming over Brendon’s hips and up his back, tangling in his hair to lead Brendon into another kiss.
“I’ve missed you,” Brendon said, panting, lips still brushing Spencer’s. “You’re living down the hall and I see you less than I did before we were engaged.”
“It’ll be better soon,” Spencer promised. “Father finally settled with Lord Ross on the date. We’ll be married on the twenty-fifth.”
“That’s so quick,” Brendon said. He was having trouble speaking with the way Spencer was mouthing at his neck, just above the collar of his jacket. “My, ah…my brothers courted their wives for months. Matthew didn’t marry Mary for over a year and half.”
Spencer drew back a bit, hands light on Brendon’s waist. “Is it too soon?” he asked. “If you want to wait-”
“No,” Brendon said quickly. He felt bold, leaning in first for another kiss. “It’s all overwhelming, but…” Over the past week and a half, Brendon had often questioned his decision, when he was being pestered by Guy, or interrogated by Lord Ross, or having monarchical law drilled into him. Here, in Spencer’s arms, Brendon knew he’d made the right choice.
“Good,” Spencer said. “I rather think with as often as I visited you at the market, our courtship has gone on long enough.”
Put that way, Brendon had to agree, though he’d never thought of their visits that way before. “You mean…all that time, you…you…”
“Wanted you?” Spencer finished. His hands were roaming again. He grabbed a handful of Brendon’s clothing and pulled him closer, palms firm and rough on Brendon’s back. “Would you-”
“Spencer.” Jon was sticking his head in the door and Brendon jumped. He tried to pull away, but Spencer held firm. “You need to get back to your chambers.”
Spencer let out a long, steadying breath. For a brief moment, he placed his forehead against Brendon’s and took both of Brendon’s hands in his own. “Brendon, I-”
“Spence!” Ryan snapped, and Spencer scowled over his shoulder.
“I’m coming,” Spencer snapped back. He pressed one more, quick kiss to Brendon’s lips and said, distractedly, “Sleep well,” before allowing Ryan and Jon to drag him away.
*
Brendon’s family was invited to be guests of the king and queen for the wedding and holiday celebrations to follow. They said he could invite whoever he wanted, and so he’d added his friends from Blissford as well, Dallon and Ian. He was going crazy only seeing Spencer at mealtimes and in the salon after dinner. Every word was carefully chosen in the presence of the royal family. Therefore it was quite a relief when his family and friends arrived.
They’d been given chambers near Brendon’s, and in the morning after their arrival, a private breakfast just for them had been arranged in one of the smaller dining rooms. It was a joyous reunion, and Brendon was so thankful to see them again and be in their company that the longing for his parents’ presence lessened.
“Shall they be calling you princess?” Daniel teased.
Dallon ruffled Brendon’s hair. “You’ll look fetching in a tiara,” he said.
Brendon shoved him off, flushing bright red. He still didn’t know what the queen had planned to do with the tiara. “I’ll be…” he trailed off, because it still didn’t quite seem real. “I’ll be Prince Brendon, Duke of Edinburgh.”
“That’s-we don’t have to actually call you Prince Brendon, do we?” Ian asked, brow arched.
Before, Brendon might have thrown a bit of his bread at him, but now he thought of what Victoria would have to say about his table manners. “You better hadn’t,” he said.
“Do you get to hand out titles?” Dallon asked. “I could be okay with an earldom.”
“Oh, just an earldom,” Brendon snorted. Victoria would be displeased about that, too. It was so nice to be allowed to be himself, without fear of censure. Soon every eye in the kingdom would be on him.
“Sorry, Duke of Edinburgh,” Dallon said with a smirk.
“I still can’t believe they’re letting Prince Spencer do this,” Kara said. “What about an heir?”
“Er…” Brendon took a long swallow from his water glass. “Pete-that is, one of Spencer’s godparents-said…” Now that Brendon thought back on what Pete had said, there was an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Well, Jackie, or Crystal…Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Listen to him, will you,” Matthew said, “Spencer, Jackie, Crystal, just like that.”
“Well.” Brendon sat up straighter. “I’m not very well going to call my husband Your Highness.” Which was all very well to say to his siblings, but sometimes hard to remember on his own.
“Your husband,” Kara sighed and drew Brendon close with an arm around his shoulder. The touch reminded him fiercely of their mother. “I can’t believe-our little brother! Mum and Dad would be so proud.”
*
Pete, Ashlee, and Patrick were regular guests at the palace. Though Brendon’s initial impression of Pete had been less than favourable, all three were quickly becoming good friends. They had taken charge of the wedding and the king and queen had gladly handed over control.
Brendon was thankful for the distraction when they called him away from his lessons for details pertaining to the ceremony and celebration. There were dances to be learned, lines of the ceremony to be memorised, and they would gather in his chambers with Brendon, helping him along.
When Brendon had screwed up his lines for about the hundredth time, only a few nights before the wedding, he was filled with a sort of dread and panic. “Lord Ross is absolutely right,” he said, head in hands. “I don’t belong here.”
“Kid, trust us, you’re MFEO,” Pete said, clapping a hand on Brendon’s shoulder. “This is what we do for a living, match people up and shit.” Seriously, the man had the most bewildering manner of speech.
Ashlee rolled her eyes. “What he means is, at the end of the day, all that matters is how you feel about Spencer, and how he feels about you. All this other stuff, it’s just one day.”
A very important day, where every noble in the country, and some from abroad would all be present, watching Brendon like hawks. Anyway, it was easy for the godparents to say-they somehow got away with having their threesome without so much as a raised brow, probably because they could turn everyone into toads, or something.
“Come on,” Ashlee said, prodding him to his feet. “We can work on the dance instead. Maybe it’ll help clear your head.”
Brendon liked dancing. He was good at dancing, even if he’d never learned these dances before. A world-weary Patrick was his partner, and Brendon wasn’t sure how that had happened, though Patrick had mumbled about losing a bet. But tonight, he failed at even this, stumbling over himself and stepping on Patrick’s toes until he gave up in disgust.
“Chin up,” Patrick said. “This time Saturday you’ll be a married man.”
“Yeah,” Pete agreed, waggling his eyebrows. “A married man alone in his chambers with his new husband.”
“Pete!” Brendon said, scandalised.
“Speaking of which,” Pete went on. “Of course there’s our official wedding gift, which will be presented after the ceremony, but I thought it would be better to give you this part in private.”
From within his jacket pocket, Pete produced a small, purple glass bottle, filled with what looked to be oil. Brendon was hesitant to take it, tipping it side to side for some sort of clue.
“For the wedding night,” Pete explained. Ashlee and Patrick groaned in dismay at the same time. “What? Someone has to prepare these kids!” He turned his attention back to Brendon. “It’ll help ease the way, so to speak.”
Brendon gave him a blank look. “Oh, look, how am I supposed to resist when they’re so adorable and innocent?” Pete said, mostly to himself. “You get your fingers all slick, and then you stick them up Spencer’s-”
“Oh my God,” Brendon exclaimed, scandalised and embarrassed on Spencer’s behalf. Of course he understood how these things worked, with four older brothers and Dallon and Ian for best friends. That didn’t mean he expected anyone, not even Pete Wentz, to be so forward.
“Pete,” Brendon said, ushering him to the door of his chambers, Ashlee and Patrick following and failing miserably at their attempts to cover their laughter. “I am grateful to you for all your help, but there are certain aspects of my life with Spencer which we will not discuss!”
After seeing them out, he tucked the bottle away out of sight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, or what Spencer might think of it, the rest of the night.
*
The day before the wedding was the liveliest yet. On top of all the guests milling about, there were dozens of deliveries being made to the kitchens in preparation of the wedding breakfast for the royal family and the feasting which would last throughout the entire day and evening.
Somehow Brendon had missed the fact that Ian and Shane were cousins, and so they, along with Dallon and Pete, spent a lot of time with Brendon in his chambers. Pete, who apparently knew everyone in the kingdom, was also good friends with Guy, and spent the day providing insight and opinions as Guy put the finishing touches on Brendon’s wedding garments. Brendon was so nervous it was hard to breathe, and he appreciated the inanity of his friends’ conversation, which helped distract him.
After dinner, Queen Ginger came to Brendon’s chambers bearing a smallish, silver box. She looked over his wedding suit, plucked at the pearls and golden thread, and gave Brendon a warm smile. “Very princely,” she murmured.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Brendon said, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“Have a seat,” she said, patting the sette beside her.
Brendon was really trying to become more comfortable around the king and queen. He knew his awkwardness only made them more uncomfortable in turn. All the same, he felt every second as though he were about to make some unforgivable mistake around them, and be cast out.
The queen had insisted on less formality from him, but Brendon couldn’t bring himself to address her with any sort of familiarity. He’d managed so far by avoiding addressing her by name or title altogether.
He seated himself beside her, noticing her perfectly arranged skirts, and tried not to jump when she laid a hand over his, clasped in his lap. “My darling boy, whatever is troubling you?”
“Just nerves,” Brendon said. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
“The night before my wedding, the Queen came to visit me, as well,” Queen Ginger said. “I doubt you could be any more nervous now than I was then.
Brendon snorted, and immediately cursed himself, eyes going wide, because you did not snort in the queen’s presence, least of all in response to something she said. “I’m sorry,” he said, fervently.
Queen Ginger sighed. “However did Spencer manage to get you to agree to marry him?” she asked.
“I’m...I’m sorry?” It seemed the question should be the other way around.
“It’s a wonder you can look him in the eye, or speak his name, let alone how you will visit your husbandly duties upon him,” she continued.
Brendon was sure he’d never been so red in his life. He was half-convinced he was dreaming, because there was absolutely no way the queen was having this conversation with him. Suddenly, it occurred to him to wonder if fairy godparents could change their visages. Could it be Pete talking to him right now, in the queen’s guise?
“Brendon, my child,” the queen said, “if you were a girl, do you know the things we would have already discussed? The embarrassing rituals that would be expected of you?”
Mutely, Brendon shook his head. “Jeffery’s mother had far too intimate knowledge of what took place in our marriage bed, in those early days,” the queen said.
“We never cared much for one another. I decided early on that when it was my daughter-in-law, I’d do far better a job. With love matches there is far less cause to worry about securing an heir. Obviously there is no precedence for your marriage to my son, and we are all figuring this out together. We will simply have to take Peter for his word that you will have issue.”
Queen Ginger paused and squeezed Brendon’s hand, then released it. She tucked a finger under his chin and gave a gentle nudge until Brendon lifted his head and met her gaze, flushing madly. “I’m doing a rather poor job of reassuring you, aren’t I?” She had a rueful smile on her lips.
“It’s alright, ma’am,” Brendon said. “I appreciate the effort.”
“Oh, this is all beside the point,” she went on, tone lighter, “which is, I don’t know how it is my son managed to get past this pervasive obsequiousness of yours.”
That stung a little, because how else was Brendon supposed to be? Until a few short weeks ago, he’d been expected to be this way. It wasn’t so easy a thing to change overnight. “He didn’t have to try very hard,” Brendon finally admitted. “It’s probably shameful how easily I gave in, when he asked me to call him by his name.”
“If it was anything like my own experience has been, I doubt that very much.”
It took Brendon a moment to realise he was being teased. By the queen, no less, and wondered if he’d entirely misunderstood the tone of this whole conversation. “I’m sorry,” he said, and had to physically clamp his mouth shut against the automatic “your majesty,” that tried to escape. “Ginger.”
The use of her name made the queen grant him a brief, stunning flash of a grin, in which Brendon saw her son. “Lovely,” she said. “Now.” She passed him the silver, jeweled box she held in her lap. “I wanted to give you this tonight.”
Brendon took the box which weighed heavily in his hands. He undid the latch and lifted the lid, balancing the box on his knees. Inside was a golden circlet with rubies, pearls, and diamonds inset.
Ginger leaned close to look over his shoulder and said in a soft voice, “Lord Ross nearly had a fit when he discovered I was giving you this particular crown.” She lifted it from where it was nestled in silver satin. “It is traditionally worn by the second son of the king and queen. Why don’t you try it on?”
Brendon’s fingers felt thick and clumsy as he lifted the circlet out. He went to the looking glass by his dresser and settled it on top his curls. Queen Ginger came up behind him, laying her hands on his shoulders, and smiled. In that moment, Brendon was so thankful for her, in the absence of his own mother.
“It suits you quite nicely,” she said.
Brendon rather thought it looked horribly out of place, but kept the thought to himself.
*
Though Brendon was having some difficulty adjusting to palace life, the luxury of a nightly bath was one he indulged in quite happily. After visiting with the queen and being pestered by Guy and the others all day, Brendon let the softly scented water sink into his muscles and soothe his nerves.
Shane was in and out of the water closet and bed chambers, preparing things for the morning. He’d asked Brendon which nightshirt he’d like for tomorrow night, so that Shane could take it to the prince’s rooms in the morning. That more than anything else brought home the reality that tomorrow night, Brendon would be wed. After that, even with the bed was soft and coals heated the sheets, Brendon could not relax enough to sleep.
It had to be after midnight when Brendon heard the creak of his door opening and started, sitting straight up in bed. The heavy drapes surrounding his bed were parted to reveal Spencer, who gave him a grin as he climbed into bed. Brendon shrank away, clenching the sheets tightly in his fists. “What are you doing?” Brendon hissed.
“I didn’t see you once all day,” Spencer whispered, coming closer. He leaned in for a kiss and Brendon turned his head, the touch landing on his jaw.
“We’ll see plenty of each other tomorrow,” Brendon said. “But if they find you in here, I’ll be in such trouble.”
“I’d be the one in trouble,” Spencer said, “sneaking into your room.” He seemed content with Brendon’s jaw. His lips trailed lightly along the curve of it, then pressed a kiss to Brendon’s ear before drifting lower.
Brendon shivered at the touch and ducked his head. “They’d say I’d sed--seduced you.” Spencer’s mouth had found a place that made heat pool in low in Brendon’s belly. Brendon nudged him away.
Spencer gave him a droll look. “Not yet you haven’t.”
“Spencer,” Brendon said, distressed.
Spencer chuckled, forehead dropping to rest against Brendon’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ll give up so easily tomorrow night,” he said.
Though he knew Spencer was only teasing, Brendon was sincere when he answered, “Tomorrow night I won’t deny you anything.”
Spencer’s eyes were dark when he lifted his head. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and leaned in to kiss Brendon again, his touch lingering. His lips were slick and they glided smoothly across Brendon’s. Reflexively, Brendon licked his own, and when his tongue brushed Spencer’s lips, Spencer’s breath caught. Tentatively, Brendon tried again, this time tracing the seam of Spencer’s mouth. He was rewarded with a rumbling moan and Spencer parting his lips in welcome.
It was wet and messy and sort of amazing, the way their mouths slid together, over and over, every time opening a little more, until Brendon grew bold again. He licked past Spencer’s lips, lapped at the roof of his mouth. Spencer pressed him deeper into the mattress and pulled back with a little growl. His teeth nipped at Brendon’s lower lip and the sensation shot straight down Brendon’s spine.
“Tomorrow night,” Spencer said, breathless, and it took all of Brendon’s strength not to grab him by the collar and jerk him back down and say to hell with the rules and tradition. Instead he nodded shakily and held his tongue. “Oh,” Spencer sighed, voice pitched low in a way that made Brendon feel hot and helpless. “I love you.”
Brendon was struck speechless by the words, and it was a good thing Spencer scrambled out of bed then, because there was no way Brendon would have pushed him away again after hearing them. With Spencer gone, the bed was far too empty. Brendon rolled onto his stomach, hardness pressed into the mattress, and wished for the morning to come as quickly as possible.
*
Part 2