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Summary:

Pumpkin Spice comes to Askazer-Shivadlakia.

Notes:

A huge whack of credit goes to Knitstamps for suggesting the crux of the story. The comment lived in an open tab in my browser for three months before inspiration struck...

Work Text:

Gregory was in a morning session of Parliament, one day in deep November, when Eddie let himself in through one of the side entrances. He came in as unobtrusively as it was possible for Eddie to do -- which was to say, not very. He was quiet, but Eddie was a large man who liked colorful clothing.

Gregory noticed him hovering and held up a hand with an apologetic look, stopping the MP who was speaking. Heads swiveled to follow his gaze.

"One moment, ministers -- Eddie, something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"Wha -- oh, ah, crap -- ah crap -- no!" Eddie said, suddenly flustered by the attention. "Sorry! No emergency. I didn't mean to interrupt. Or swear. It's just it's -- it's three minutes to lunchtime so I thought I'd come meet you."

That got a rustle of quiet laughter and a couple of amused murmurs.

"That's very sweet, thank you," Gregory said with a smile, turning back to the assembly. "Minister da Veiga, please, continue with our apologies."

"Ah -- as His Majesty says, it is three minutes to lunch," da Veiga said. He was one of the younger MPs and had clearly been nervous to speak to begin with. "I think the gist of the memorandum is clear."

"Absolutely, and I'd like to ask everyone to consider it during lunch. We can resume the discussion after the meal. Parliament is recessed until one-thirty, thank you all," Gregory said, and Eddie bustled up to him as everyone began gathering their various belongings to adjourn for lunch.

"Okay actually I totally did have a very urgent reason to come here but I swear I didn't mean to interrupt," Eddie said in a low voice. Gregory tensed.

"What is it? Something in the news?" he asked, and Eddie reached into his messenger bag and produced a small bottle.

It was roughly flask-sized, a standard pint of liquor; it had the distinct grey-green color of davzda bottles, but it also had a label, so it wasn't the bootleg black-market stuff. Gregory took it in, frowning, and then realized what he was seeing.

Traditional davzda was a clear, high-proof alcohol in which salt-dried psychedelic mushrooms had been reconstituted. It had a taste best described as "acquired" and Gregory's father was known to remark that it was like drinking beach sand; it also carried a mild hallucinogenic kick. The real stuff had been outlawed half a century ago at least, but the Shivadh fondness for terrible liquor meant that one royally-licensed distillery produced legal davzda, without the hallucinations but with all of the horrible taste. It was salty and slightly bitter and often punishing.

And the label on this one said, below the traditional SHIVADH CROWN DAVZDA legend at the top:

Limited Edition: King Theophile's Pumpkin Spice.

Gregory looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Eddie, what did you do."

"Nothing! This wasn't my idea!"

"Pumpkin spice davzda? Did the world need this?" Gregory asked, taking the bottle from his hand.

"Well -- I mean there are so many things the world doesn't need," Eddie said, sidetracked.

"Focus! Have you tried it?"

"Not yet. I just found it, all the stores in town that sell alcohol have little displays. You can only get it in this size. The bars that are still open are already trying to figure out what to do with it."

"Thank goodness tourist season is over. Imagine them trying to hoard it at scale for cocktails," Gregory said. "Can they even use your name without your -- oh, no," he said distantly.

"What?"

"It's the Royal Shivadh distillery. It has our protected designation of origin seal. Any food with a PDO seal has the right to use the name and likeness of the king," Gregory said. "And...and when you married me...they can't say Eddie Rambler, but they can say King Theophile."

Eddie stared at him and then burst into laughter.

"Eddie, this could really damage your brand -- "

"Oh, come on Greg! This is GREAT. You know what they did? Twenty saorh says they looked at the little legal clause that says they can use my name, they looked around and asked themselves what they could possibly put my name on, and then they put out a horrifying novelty liquor named after me. This is one hundred percent on brand," he managed, wheezing. "Oh shit I hope they do one for -- well, they could do one for Christmas but I guess I hope it's Hanukkah instead."

Gregory couldn't help himself. He'd married the man, after all. "Egg nog davzda," he said in a horrified voice.

"Latke davzda!" Eddie blurted.

"Should we...I mean should we do anything about it?" Gregory asked. "What on Earth would we do about it? If you're happy with it we don't even need to put palace legal on them to make them knock it off."

"Are you kidding. I'm going to call them up this afternoon and ask to get in on future flavor development. We'll be tasteful, all limited editions, not too many per year. Subtle marketing, very limited export. What's a good summer flavor for the tourists?" he mused thoughtfully.

"Summer berry?" Gregory suggested.

Eddie looked his beloved husband and king dead in the eye and said, very slowly, "Hot dog."

***

Michaelis was sitting in the family dining room when Gregory and Eddie arrived, reading a book while he waited; Simon was just bringing in the meal, soup and hearty bread and winter fruit.

"There you are. Jes is on their way, supposedly -- " he started, setting the book aside, but Gregory interrupted.

"Father, you're about to learn something and I need you to be on my side after you do," he said. Michaelis raised his eyebrows. Simon, unloading the food, stopped to watch the drama.

"No promises," he said, and Eddie plonked the bottle of pumpkin spice Davzda down on the table. In the background, Simon gasped and hurried out of the room. "All right, now I can make promises."

"Tell him we cannot allow the royal distillery to issue a hot dog flavored summer limited edition davzda," Gregory said.

"We can market it as all-beef!" Eddie protested. "I can make this flavor work! Salt and savory are good together!"

"I am an old man on death's door and you want to give me a heart attack with the one-two punch of this," Michaelis said, holding up the bottle, "and then the suggestion that it could be worse?"

"You're sixty-two, stop playing the death's door card," came a voice from the hallway, and the kings stepped aside to let Jes in through the doorway. "Sorry I'm late, I got distracted in the libr...what, did someone actually die?" they asked, seeing everyone's faces.

"Three words," Eddie said to them, spreading his hands as if pitching a brilliant idea. "Pumpkin spice davzda."

"No," they said. Michaelis waggled the bottle. "That's brilliant. Have you tried it?"

"Not yet," Eddie said, beaming, and fistbumped them. "Crack it open, your Grace, let's sample."

"Oh, by all means, you do the honors," Michaelis said, handing it to him to open as Jes went to the little bar in the corner to get glasses.

"Do not pour it yet!" Simon called from the hallway, hurrying back. He had an armful of bottles. "Mixers," he said to Eddie. "I thought cream, or perhaps limoncello."

"Cocktail onion garnish would go nice," Jes suggested. Simon shook the jar of onions. Gregory sat next to his father and then leaned over, resting his forehead on his shoulder, as Simon unpacked his armful onto the table and Eddie started making selections.

"You married him," Michaelis reminded Gregory, while the mixology began nearby.

"I love him so much it must be some form of mental illness," Gregory said.

"These things happen. You will have to at least taste it, you know."

"Not at lunch. You know the rule, no drinking while Parliament's in session."

"We'll save you some," Eddie promised.

"Don't suffer on my account," Gregory told him, at the same time Michaelis said, "He can have mine."

"Go ahead, Eddie, tell Jes the true horror," Gregory added.

"For next summer: hot dog flavor," Eddie said. Jes digested this gravely as someone who had spent nearly thirty years in America.

"Can I suggest Ballpark Mustard instead?" they asked. Eddie shrieked with joy.

"Your partner is making mine worse," Gregory told his father.

"Well, this form of madness runs in the family," Michaelis replied. "Although -- "

"Don't say it," Gregory said. "Whatever you're going to say -- "

"Say it," Jes urged.

"I'm only saying, I believe ballpark mustard is a distinct sharp yellow mustard, and dijon is a mellower European variety. A King Gregory III Dijon Davzda -- "

"Oooh, a box set," Eddie said dreamily. "Also, here, try this," he said, setting a glass of suspiciously opaque liquid in front of Michaelis.

"My punishment was swift," Michaelis said, as Gregory sat up again. He sipped it and his face took on a very distinct expression. "Well, that is...you see, I'm not sure cinnamon and salt together are improved by cream..."

"Oh, hang on," Eddie said. "We're going about this wrong. He's right. Simon, you got any chocolate cordial?"

"In the bar, perhaps," Simon said, nodding at it.

"Okay, and butterscotch flavor syrup, great. Cinnamon accentuates chocolate, salted caramel is a thing..." Eddie poured like a mad scientist, stirred like his life depended on it, and offered it to Jes. "The Shivadh Caramel."

Jes sampled it. "That's actually very nice, Eddie. Try some, babe," they added, passing it to Michaelis. He sipped and sighed. Eddie did a triumphant dance.

"Okay, I need to -- Greg are you okay without me for lunch? I gotta talk to the distillery about getting some in bulk to experiment with, run into town for a bunch of mixers, raid Simon's stash -- can you do me a caramel sauce?" he asked Simon.

"Of course. And I have other ideas," Simon said. They left without another look back, chattering their way down the hallway. Jes glanced around, took the rest of the food off the serving cart, and set it on the table, settling in next to Michaelis and kissing his cheek.

"I will graciously help you finish this," they said, reclaiming the cocktail as Gregory, shaking his head, helped himself to soup and bread.

"The man does have a genius for marketing," Michaelis said. "And no, I absolutely am not going to do a shot of the pumpkin spice flavor for our next podcast recording," he added to Jes.

"No, we'll save that for the mustard flavor," Jes agreed.

***

ROYAL SHIVADH DISTILLERY makers of SHIVADH CROWN DAVZDA (PDO) ARE PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE

THE 2024 LIMITED EDITION FLAVOR CALENDAR

February: Fresh Avocado Toast
June: PRIDE SPECIAL: Rainbow Gelato (available in full-size bottles!)
July: BOX SET: King Theophile Ballpark Mustard and King Gregory III Dijon Mustard
November: Hearty Cheese Fondue

In addition, every tenth Box Set will feature a special taster's bottle of King Emeritus Smoked Salmon Flavor!

Want to join in the fun? Submit your flavor ideas below and King Theophile will select one to be featured in a one-day collector's edition release for Reclamation Day!

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