Chapter Text
Hermann blinked, eyes burning hotter than the thick air clinging to his skin. Confusion reigned before memory took hold. He was resting under the willow tree near the edge of the palace grounds, skin coated with sweat and a book wilting and dogeared in his lap. He winced as he stretched, his rear and back protesting the dirt and root-strewn bedding he’d found himself sprawled across. Thankfully his leg, still resting over the raised root he had placed it upon, did not so much as twinge uncomfortably.
A sound, a splash from the creek, diverted his attention from his body aches. That was what had stirred him. Judging from the face of his shadow the splashing was nothing he needed to fear. Still, Hermann was curious. Rising to his feet and retrieving the cane he had propped against the trunk of the willow Hermann teetered his way towards the water. His bodyguard, likely bored out of his skull, followed at a short distance.
Hermann crested the hill just over the ditch and both his stomach and dick jumped at what he saw. A man, tanned body completely bared, stood in the middle of the creek and gazed about with the most awe-filled expression. Hermann was incredibly grateful for his propensity for light reading; he had a barrier to discreetly use as coverage for his spike of arousal. What he could not hide behind his book was the flush of his face but he could argue it as a mark from the heat typical of Zavmnth.
Clearing his throat, Hermann made his way down the incline. “I say, what in the goddess’ name are you doing?”
The man stilled, body coated in rivulets of water, squinted up at him then turned and gestured wildly about him. Hermann fought to keep his eyes up.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re fooling about and aiming to catch your death.”
“It’s too hot to catch a cold, gazlite,” the man scoffed. Hermann frowned, perplexed by the foreign word. Surely it wasn’t anything flattering.
He reached the bank and at this distance could see the very naked man also had a smattering of odd markings along his arms and chest. What he had mistaken for mud was actually detailed pictures and lines on his skin. He wasn’t able to quite make out what the pictures were supposed to be but it hardly seemed like an irrational pattern.
“Your highness,” spoke the shadow, breaking his self-imposed rule of general silence, “I suggest we leave this madman and you return home immediately.”
“Madman? You call me mad, you plebeian?” The stranger’s squeaky voice seemed to hike up to an impossible octave. “I’ll have you know I’m a genius, waaaay above your level!”
“Genius or not, still obviously disturbed,” Hermann sneered, turning his back on the man and starting back up the hill.
“Di-disturbed?” The indignant squawking that followed was hardly parsable, a mixture of Geotiblese and some other language falling together in an unholy pidgin Hermann didn’t care to indulge. That seemed to appease his shadow and the bodyguard fell into step behind him, silent as if the exchange had never even happened. As for the strange man, he did not pursue and that was a wise decision on his part.
Already Hermann determined to put the interaction out of his mind, for the most part. Nothing interesting had come of it save for some pleasant imagery for his late night routine. He could drum up a picture of that soft curve of ass in his mind’s eye perfectly. At least it wasn’t a complete waste of his time.
Two Weeks Later
Court receptions were a terrible bore most occurrences but this one came unexpected. Hermann was informed late the night before that he would need to dress in his reception garments and found himself equal parts intrigued and irritated. Short notice and no planning always fouled his mood but it was the same for his father; whomever felt it was a great idea to drop in so suddenly on the King of Geotiblt was obviously lacking in both manners and intelligence. If they wished a favor they would need to offer a heavy trade in return after this slight.
Still offended by the unwelcome change to his schedule, Hermann scowled at his reflection before scrubbing his face with water from the basin. He couldn’t scrape away the lines of bitterness but it added a little color to his cheeks. Karla would be pleased.
The clothing he wore to receptions were fairly standard if flashier than his daily wear. Deep, dark blue breeches with a lighter blue tunic, followed by a red hunting cape with silver bindings. He pinned a silver brooch upon his collar to signify his status as second prince of the kingdom. Last, he placed his crown upon his head; a simple band of silver with a ruby stone that had been cut and selected at Hermann’s twentieth birthday.
“Mother’s crown had a ruby, too,” Dietrich had mused at the time. Hermann had been too overwhelmed at the time to ask after the strange look his older brother had given him then. Now, when he thought back on it he felt he had left behind a great mystery he could never again solve.
Agreeable to his father’s standards, Hermann took up his latest tome to pass the time until a servant fetched him for the affair. Grabbing up his cane, which seemed so simple and crude in counterpart to his ensemble, Hermann followed the servant to the reception hall.
King Lars, Dietrich and Karla were already seated upon their royal thrones; Lars front and center beside his wife’s empty seat and Dietrich and Karla to his right. Hermann took his place immediately to the left of his mother’s empty chair, and a moment later Bastien was taking his place to Hermann’s left. Together, despite Queen Petra’s absence, their family struck an imposing picture. Behind closed doors they fought and bickered but in the public eye they were a united front, always. An impenetrable wall.
Already the hard wood of the throne was aggravating Hermann’s bad hip. He prayed his discomfort only showed as a bland disinterest on his face. Lars always sent him sharp looks any time he happened to let the smallest wince through.
At last, the herald came forward and addressed them. “My King, my princes, my princess, I present the Duke Newton of the Zeelsirg Islands, cousin of Queen Monica, and his escort, a Sir Tendo.”
The herald bowed and scurried out of sight just as two figures began marching up the hall. One man had a handsome face and the mark of a quick smile, dressed in leather armor with an empty scabbard at his side; all weaponry was forbidden in the royal court. Next to him was a man with—
Hermann blinked, sitting up a bit taller in his seat and subconsciously cursing his slouching. That man, he had seen that man before, but where? His flowing green and gold robes did not resemble anything Hermann had seen before and the man’s hair was a veritable mess. The glasses he wore were also quire different from the elegant style Hermann knew to be of Geotiblt fashion, so where was that strange feeling of previous familiarity coming from?
Hermann pondered his mixed thoughts for a time until both men reached the foot of the dais. Both bowed low, but when the robed man stood the one in armor remained on his knee.
“Greetings from the Island Nation of Zeelsirg, your majesty, and to you, your highnesses,” the man began and it took all of Hermann’s self-control not to hurl himself out of his seat. That voice—
“Duke Newton,” Lars began, his voice carrying the frightening authority of a King with no patience, “what business do you have in my kingdom?”
“Your majesty, please, call me Newt.”
Silence.
Hermann didn’t dare move. It was like the very air had been sucked from the room, waiting to be released or to explode. Only shifting his eyes, Hermann looked to his father. He may have imagined it but he could swear his father’s lips thinned even further.
Newton stood there blinking, unaffected. Unafraid. But a sudden clamoring next to him jostled the mood and all eyes turned their gazes upon Tendo.
“Your majesty, your highnesses, please do not allow Duke Newton’s informality to color your opinion of him just yet,” Tendo said, his accent heavy and his Geotiblese less polished and more formal than Newton’s. He seemed to be concentrating very hard and Hermann felt a fraction of compassion for the man. “The Island Nation of Zeelsirg wishes to establish a strong relationship with Geotiblt. The Duke is here to offer you a proposal inspired by the Queen Monica herself.”
“My opinion has yet to be established, but I suppose if this is a direct offer from a fellow monarch I shall deign to hear you out while withholding judgment.” Despite Lars’ admission Hermann was still unable to breathe.
“Thank you, your majesty,” Newton said, still unaffected by his previous breach of conduct. Again, Tendo spoke.
“Yes, thank you, but I’m afraid this offer is only for your ears, your majesty. Your highnesses cannot be present for the terms.”
This time Hermann didn’t care to hide his reaction. He outright leaned forward to look over at Dietrich. From the shifting sounds behind him Bastien was just as curious.
“Out of the question!” the eldest prince bellowed. “A private audience with the king is only ever granted to fellow monarchs and chieftains of other nations. We have granted you a formal reception and our undivided attention and yet you wish to divide it so casually?”
“Peace, Dietrich,” Karla warned, her tone soft. Their brother forced himself to sit back but his face was still ruddy with indignation. Lars’ frown remained a thin line, untrusting.
For a moment no one spoke. Then Newton tilted his head, his chin high in the air.
“I understand you have your ways, but listen here. I come directly from Zeelsirg Islands, sent from the Queen herself. She hopes to make a trade, a damn good one, to just the right kingdom and we’ve been searching for just the right one to receive her offer.
“Now, you can send us away and we’ll leave, never to bother you again. Or, you can accept our humble request for just a little privacy and possibly earn your kingdom an alliance with one of the world’s wealthiest trade nations of exotic goods this side of the Gnormando Mountains. So. What say you, your majesty?”
Almost as one, everyone turned to Lars. The king closed his eyes a moment, seemingly in thought, then gave a nod.
“I wish to hear this offer. But allow my eldest, Prince Dietrich, to come along for the negotiations as well.” Lars opened his eyes. “He shall take the throne after me. It is essential he be aware of these terms should it affect his rule and our nation’s future.”
Newton looked to Tendo. Tendo nodded and Newton shrugged.
“As you wish, your majesty.”
The meeting between his father, brother, and the travelers lasted three hours. When they emerged from the room Lars had looked contemplative, Dietrich was silent and pensive, and the strangers… unreadable. Lars announced he needed some time and closed himself off in his quarters. All the younger siblings could do was speculate.
“Should we talk to Dietrich?” Bastien asked once the three settled in an enclosed courtyard with cups of tea.
“No,” Hermann answered firmly with his cup half-raised. “Our brother has surely been sworn to secrecy. Asking will only vex him.”
“But what if he were to just accidentally let something slip?” Bastien wheedled.
Karla reached over and twisted his ear, causing him to yelp. “Enough. If anyone tells us anything it shall be father and it will be because he wills it be.”
Bastien pouted, rubbing his ear. Hermann passed him a biscuit knowing a sweet would assuage any ruffled feathers.
“Where did the Zeelsirg representatives go after the meeting?” Karla asked before taking a sip of her tea.
“I believe the Duke has been quartered in the Red suite,” Hermann said with a shrug. “They probably are trying to settle in, or perhaps they’re touring the grounds.”
Hermann had a sudden fleeting memory of a tanned backside and busied himself pouring a new cup of tea from the still warm pot. Excusing himself when they had only just sat down wouldn’t do, no matter how much he wanted some alone time.
“I think father will take the offer,” Bastien said after finishing the cookie. Karla and Hermann exchanged a glance. Bastien grinned that youthful, bright smile looking both smug and secure in a mix that Hermann surely had never felt in his life. “You know I’m right. Father’s putting on an act to make the Duke sweat it out, maybe sweeten the deal until we come out on top with more than the islanders planned. It’s all a part of the haggling.”
“Who said they plan to compromise?” Karla retorted though her brow was wrinkled in thought. “I’ve read about the Zeelsirg Islands. They have plenty of riches and goods to spare; whatever the bargain I highly doubt they are lacking anything we could offer.”
“We have land!” Bastien was in his element, excitement teeming in his voice. “Land, and we’re landlocked between several other, smaller countries. “If they want to establish safe intercontinental trade routes they would need to come through Geotiblt at some point during a journey. Perhaps they wish to make a crossroads here, or host an official caravan, or—”
“You are only started and I’m already tired of the speculation,” Hermann said with a long suffering sigh. Setting down his cup Hermann stood, affecting boredom. “I’ll be in my room should any real announcements be made, but until then I expect to not be disturbed please.”
Bastien groaned about Hermann’s lack of curiosity and Karla tutted about him being a shut-in, but Hermann was quite pleased with himself. Right now all he wanted was some peace and quiet so he and his hand could spend a little quality time imagining the smiling, warm face of the Duke twisted into an expression of pleasure.
Dinner was always a family affair but when Hermann arrived at the royal table in the dining hall he was taken aback. A seventh place had been set directly across the table from King Lars’ usual place. Hermann raised his brows and looked to Karla as he took his place. She shrugged, just as lost as he. Their father’s placid features gave nothing away.
Bastien, Dietrich and Maria, Dietrich’s wife, arrived together, Bastien taking his place beside Hermann while the other two sat across from them.
“What’s this? Who else is joining us?” Bastien asked, shameless in his shock.
“I’m sure you will find out soon enough, brother,” Dietrich said, his face as impassive a mask as Lars’. If Maria had any clue she held her tongue, her gaze downcast and demure.
A few tense minutes passed before anyone else entered the hall… then the Duke, informal as ever, burst through the door dressed, well, hardly dressed at all. Just green shortpants flowing almost like a skirt above his knees covered him. His glasses remained but everything else, including his shoes, were missing. It took a full six seconds for Hermann to realize he was gaping and shut his trap. At least his blunder was quick to hide. Karla was a brilliant scarlet that would not abate, while Bastien had actually snorted before attempting to calm his laughter.
Horrified, Hermann turned to look at his father but found the king unusually serene at the lack of propriety. Dietrich was off color but seemed just as accepting.
What on the goddess’ green planet was going on?
“Thanks for inviting me to the party,” Newton said as he climbed into the empty chair awaiting him. He grinned at everyone. Such cheek Hermann could hardly abide.
“Duke, it is gladdening to see you have made yourself… comfortable in our home.” Despite his words Lars’ mouth had turned down a bit at the corners. Newton’s smile grew even bigger.
As if he couldn’t get any more smug… “Really, your majesty, call me Newt.”
Bastien nearly gagged and reached for his goblet of water. Hermann very nearly leaped out of his chair, certain he needed to set this insolence to rights but before he could Lars spoke again.
“Very well then. Newt, it is a delight for you to join us tonight.”
Hermann pinched his own thigh. Shockingly, he did not awaken to the stimulus of pain.
This couldn’t be happening. No way was the sex fantasy of Hermann’s recent dreams sitting at their table, about to dine with his family while also mostly naked. And to top it all off his father was humoring this irrational man’s request to speak informally. Absurd. Unthinkable. Imposs—
“Before we begin,” Lars said, voice soft but commanding just as much presence as ever, “I have an announcement. Dietrich and I discussed the terms of the offer brought to us from Queen Monica and we both agreed the trade was more than fair, to us and our kingdom. That said, we still had a decision to make and as king the final word on the matter is my own.”
Beside Hermann Bastien was a squirming mess while Karla remained still as stone. Maria had her eyes closed and Dietrich had his gaze raised to the heavens as he often did when seeking his own patience. Herman didn’t dare look back for Newton’s expression, his eyes were riveted open, centered on his father.
“The Zeelsirg Islands and the State of Geotiblt shall confirm a future partnership through an auspicious occasion; marriage. As Dietrich is already wed and Karla engaged to the son of the Gnormandon Chieftain, the choice comes down to you two.” Lars peered over steepled fingers to his younger sons. Hermann glanced to Bastien and stared, watching in morbid fascination as his usually jubilant brother turned a startling tint of ash.
“Newt, your husband shall be my son, Bastien.”
To be continued