Chapter Text
“Rouxls Kaard.”
The sound of a single droplet hitting the tiled floor should not have been so noticeable. It likely would not have been significant at all, had it not been that the Prince had been staring at it for the past five minutes, hanging off of a chin, waiting to see when it would finally fall.
It had been the first thing the Prince had noticed about the man that had dared to sully his court with his unwanted presence. Not the pomp and circumstance that the guards escorting him had put on. Not the introductions, or the reasons given for his arrival. No, the first thing the Prince had noticed was that he dripped.
A wet something that ran down his skin of matching color like rivulets of sweat. Was it sweat? It was unlike any sweat he’d ever seen, it was thick and the same deep blue color as his skin. Disgusted as he was by it, the Prince was also fascinated; as he’d never seen anything, or anyone, quite like it.
The second thing he’d taken notice of was the way the other’s name was spelled.
Rouxls Kaard himself had handed over a small stack of paperwork. He’d asked the Prince to look them over, and to tell him his honest opinions. But the Prince hadn’t even gotten past the first page, as he’d gotten immediately distracted by the name writ upon the top of said paperwork. The man seemed very proud of his own name, as it was the largest piece of text on the entire document. It wasn’t so much the size of the text though, nor the fancy font it’d been written in that gave the Prince pause; it was it’s spelling. It was spelled nothing like the way it was supposedly pronounced.
“Rouxls…Kaard…”
The name swam in his mouth as he sounded it out slowly. He chewed upon it as if it were a wad of fat.
He hated it.
Hated the way it was said, hated the way it was spelled. The silent X, the additional A. It was all so very…extra. Unnecessary, cumbersome. Almost as unnecessary as the overly fancy lettering it had been scrawled in. Done by the well-trained hands of an egotistical calligrapher that had nothing better to do than spell his own name a thousand times until the presentation was perfect. The list of accolades below said name was chicken scratch by comparison.
“Aye, sire, that doth beeth mine own name.” Rouxls Kaard dared to respond. Speaking up for the first time in what felt like an age.
Funny. Not moments prior, he had been more than happy to chat the Prince’s ear off. Boasting about his accomplishments, himself, his resume, mostly about himself. It was impressive, almost, how long he had managed to go on and on while the Prince said absolutely nothing in return. Though his voice had at some point started to strain. Growing higher, higher, and more desperate.
Eventually, he’d run out of things to say. Or maybe his throat just hurt.
Now he was just stood there, back straight and hands clasped in front of his stomach as he awaited the Prince to say aught. Thus far, the most he had done was repeat his name in a mildly threatening manner. Nevertheless! He minded his manners, and grinned pleasantly at his superior as he waited.
It was a grin that, in the less than two hours that the Prince had known this man, already grown to despise. It was a wonder how his cheeks did not ache from having to hold that expression for so long.
“It’s a stupid name.” The Prince did not even bother to read whatever else the document contained. Crumpling the whole packet up into a ball and tossing it into the corner for some castle servant to sweep up later.
Rouxls was unable to hide the way he winced, and shrunk in on himself as if he’d been struck. He may as well have, for how tight his chest felt upon hearing the insult. As if the Prince had grabbed him ‘round the waist and begun to squeeze.
He hadn’t, of course. Still sat a good few feet away upon his throne. Leaning back into it as he folded his arms across his chest, fixing Rouxls with a sour look. (Though, that seemed to be his default expression.)
“So, Kaard… What business do you have with me?”
Rouxls blanked upon being asked that, almost as if he, too, had forgotten why he was here. The Prince could practically see the gears spinning in that pretty, empty head of his; and none of them were making any connections. Rouxls’ mouth hung open with no words coming out of it. His gaze was fixed on the way the Prince was tapping his claw impatiently against his elbow, and the idea of it tearing through his tender flesh if he said the wrong thing.
Another drip hit the floor.
“Mi-mine apologies, sire!” Rouxls tried to settle his nerves by looking away from the Prince’s imposing figure. Instead on his face, which was only…marginally less imposing. The teeth, certainly, were not helping. “For, ah…Failing to explaineth mineself! Thou seeth! I hath come in response to a job offer, opendest by thine own parents, the Spade Monarchkes. Due to mine own impressive resume, I hath toppeth consideration! I hath an - extensive historie, yes. Many hats I hath worne upon mine head! Records keeper, court stenographer, managedest mine own team of-”
The Prince raised a paw to quiet him, an irritated growl rising from the maw in his stomach. Rouxls shut his mouth so quickly he felt his teeth sink into his tongue.
“Spare me the lengthy backstory. I did not ask for your history, Kaard, I asked why any of this concerns me. I’ve no use for any of those things.”
Rouxls froze again, a mess of aborted noises leaving his mouth rather than words. He squeaked like an asthmatic pig.
“Of…of courseth! Th-thou’rt a busye man, aye, this I doth knoweth! Thou wisheth for me to, getteth to yonder point, yes? ‘Tis only faireth that thee-” Another threatening snort, Rouxls’s voice somehow pitched higher, “ An advisor!! Thine parents wisheth to hirest me as thine advisor!! ”
It was the Prince’s turn to sit in stunned silence. For no matter what flowery language his parents had fed to this odd man, no matter what title they’d tacked onto the task, the Prince knew exactly what this was.
Advisor his ass - A babysitter. Rouxls Kaard was to be his babysitter.
Rouxls continued to tremble in the silence that had fallen once more over the room. He’d…said something wrong, hadn’t he? Would the Prince take it in stride? Would he be thrown out? Again his head was flooded with images of all the kinds of violence the Prince could do to him. Strangling him, tearing him apart. Hell, he may see fit to just stuff him in that extra maw and eat him -
Rouxls took a deep inhale, trying to calm himself down. He rather not lose his form completely to melt, not in the middle of a job interview. Not on a first impression. He pressed his hand subtly against his cheek, trying to keep his eye from sliding down his face.
“Of courseth, if thou believeth thou’rt well on thine own! I-I can informeth thine parents. Pray, alloweth me to-”
“Stay.”
Rouxls froze so stiffly that one could almost be fooled into thinking he was made of something solid. The Prince rose from his throne; Rouxls felt his heart raise to his throat. He had to swallow to not choke on it, and tilt his head back at an impossible angle to meet the Prince’s eyes. (Or what he could only assume was his eyes. Really, he couldn’t tell.)
“I’ve not a clue what you think you could offer to me.” The Prince began, voice thick with venom. “You’re quite possibly the most annoying thing I’ve ever met. I hesitate to even call you a man. You have a grating voice, a stupid accent. You’ve done nothing but whine and snivel from the moment you walked into this room. You both look, and sound like a blithering idiot. And if that were not enough, you’ve made a mess of my floor.”
Rouxls followed his gaze downwards, noticing for the first time the puddle of indigo sludge that had formed around his boot. He shifted his foot out of it, not wanting to slip and break a heel. He didn’t want to look even more foolish than he already was - and he also quite liked these boots.
It was to be a lost cause, however, as when Rouxls was brave enough to look up again, he found himself mere inches away from the Prince’s wet snout. Rouxls gasped, taking a hurried step backwards, forgetting about the puddle he had just taken his eyes off of, and losing his footing in his precious high heeled boots as he slipped and fell backwards. He yelled as he fell spectacularly onto his ass, the back of his head bouncing against the floor with a wet slap.
Rouxls vision swam with pain, staring dizzily upwards at the looming figure of the Prince. Of course the Prince made no efforts to help him up, or even check that he was still alive.
The only thing he did was… laugh? The Prince was laughing. Laughing at him. A loud, boisterous sound that made his belly wobble. Only growing louder as Rouxls tried to sit himself upright, only for his hands to keep slipping on themselves. Slime and waxed tile floorings did not make for a good grip.
“Oh, you’re funny!” The Prince wheezed, tongue poking past his teeth as he stared at Rouxls with a mean grin. “Perhaps you’ve a use after all! I could use the entertainment.”
Chapter Text
The antics of Rouxls Kaard amused and irritated the Prince all at once.
It had been months since their initial meeting, and since then, Rouxls may as well have been sewn into the Prince’s hip. He was not allowed a moment’s peace. It didn’t matter if it was official business, or patiently waiting outside of his quarters for the Prince to awaken from his nap; Rouxls was there. Always there. Given the chance, the Prince was sure that Rouxls would happily follow him into the bathroom.
It was…aggravating. Infuriating, even. Could he not just be left alone ? For five minutes, even? How much supervision could he possibly need? He was a grown man, well into his adulthood!
What’s worse was that the Prince was starting to get used to it.
Not an acceptance, mind, never acceptance. For the Prince would never not mourn the death of his peace and quiet. But, after enough time, Rouxls’ presence had started to blend into the scenery. It was as expected as his own shadow. Maybe the Prince should have hated that more, that he was starting to get worn down. But, by some small comfort, he had been correct about one thing; and it was that Rouxls was immensely entertaining.
There was a certain charm about him… The same sort of charm that a three-legged dog hopped up on sedatives might have. Rouxls was clumsy, foolish, and talked like he was constantly tipsy. Which, maybe he even was; the Prince would not have been surprised at all to learn that Rouxls had been slipping sips of wine on the job.
As a jester, he was perfect! As an advisor? Questionable. There was nothing that Rouxls really…advised on. He hardly gave any input at all! The most he did was fawn and yes-man anything that came out of either of the Prince’s two mouths. It was the one thing that he could say he genuinely did like about Rouxls; was that he was too much of a coward to ever say a word against him.
When he chose to speak (which was often), the Prince could hardly understand what Rouxls was even trying to say with that garbled, nonsensical way that he spoke.
There was no doubt that Rouxls had convinced himself the flowery way he spoke sounded fancy and smart. But, the Prince had deciphered that there was another, secret reason behind his put-on accent. It seemed to be an overthought attempt to cover up a rather prominent lisp. Maybe Rouxls thought that, between all of the -eths and -ests and thous, the way he slurred some of his letters would get lost in the sea of strange noises. The Prince had to admit that Rouxls might have gotten away with it, too, were he not forced to listen to the man talk every day, all the time. And perhaps if that dreaded ‘s’ sound he struggled with so much was not in his own name.
It did make some sense to the Prince that Rouxls’ odd mouth would give him issues with speech. No matter how wide he opened his mouth, there was always at least one thick string of slime stuck between his lips. And if that were not enough, he had a large chip in his upper teeth, and a sharp set of fangs that were laughable on the incredibly non-threatening Darkner. Like the needle claws of a kitten. While the Prince couldn’t exactly fault Rouxls for the makeup of his unfortunate body, he could make fun of him for having come up with such a nonsensical way to deal with it. It did very little to help his cause, and, if anything, just made him sound worse.
The Prince could go on for days about all of Rouxls’ quirks and eccentricities, and his opinions on every one. But all of those taken into account, there was one behavior that the Prince had never found amusing. That being just how jumpy he was.
Alright, he’d admit that, at first, it had been a little funny. Rouxls would flinch and cower if the Prince so much as cleared his throat. But the humor had worn off quickly, souring into annoyance. If the Prince reached deep inside of himself, from that cold and blackened heart, he could maybe even say there was a crumb of concern in there.
“Alright, this has gone on long enough.” Was what the Prince had said when he decided to finally confront the other man.
He’d decided now was the perfect time to bring it up. Because, in the courtyard garden, with a bed of flowers irritating his nose, the Prince had made the cardinal sin of sneezing . And when he’d turned around, he’d found Rouxls had jumped so dramatically he was now hugging the low branch of a tree.
“Wh, what hath gone on enow, sire?” Rouxls eeped out, in a failed attempt to sound unbothered. Slowly trying to untangle himself from the leafy branch; taking great care that none of his expensive lace got caught on anything.
The Prince didn’t even deign that question to be worthy of a proper answer.
“Don’t play coy. I am tired of having to think if I’ll be sending my advisor into cardiac arrest if I even dare to breathe too hard for your liking.” The Prince glared as Rouxls slid back down to the ground. He brushed his shaky hands off on the front of his coat, acting casual, as if climbing trees in nice clothing was something he made a habit of.
“Pray tell, sire! I art most unsureth as to what thou refereth to! I-”
The Prince called his bluff before Rouxls could launch into some long-winded excuse that said everything and nothing at the same time. He waved his paw fast towards Rouxls’ head, claws outstretched. Rouxls squealed like he’d been hit, throwing one arm up over his head to protect it and recoiling away.
The hand stopped just short of coming into contact with anything at all.
“You were saying…?” The Prince sneered, flexing his claws just to watch the other man squirm. Squirm, he did, even though the Prince’s hand was more than a foot away from touching anything. “What is wrong with you? I’ve met cats with stronger nerves. Did your previous master beat you or something?”
If his parents had been around to hear him ask that so bluntly, he would’ve been scolded. It’d be fitted somewhere in the overlong lecture he’d receive for cornering and bullying Rouxls Kaard in the first place. It wasn’t the Prince’s fault Rouxls made it so easy to bully him; and they weren’t here. It was just the two of them in the courtyard, and he knew Rouxls wouldn’t dare tattle on him.
“Nothinge of the sort, sire!” There was that stupid grin again, “Mine previous employer wast - not notable, aye! ‘Tis to sayeth, ne’er hath I been mistreated in such a wayse.”
“So what is it, then?” Finally he lowered his paw, and he watched as Rouxls visibly relaxed; a tension leaving his chest. “Are you just that intimidated by me?”
That tension came right back. A new anxiety taking hold that the Prince could even suggest that Rouxls felt any reservations towards him! Towards his wonderful superior that could do no wrong!
“Nay, nay! Thou’rt large and powerful, aye, however-!”
“Don’t bullshit me, Kaard.”
Rouxls shut up fairly quickly. Bullshitting was the only thing he knew how to do…
“I am not offended. I’m well aware of what I am; a large animal. Compared to something like you.” He flicked at one of the silver buttons on Rouxls’ pretty top. “Skinny, lanky, lacking a spine in both a physical and metaphorical sense. To you? I must look like an apex predator.”
Rouxls made a strained wheezing noise, the one he made when he was just about at his wits end. He fussed at his shirt, straightening the button that the Prince had toyed with; though the Prince saw absolutely nothing out of line with it.
“Whilst I shall, agreeth with thine statements,” Rouxls said slowly, as he tugged at the hem of his shirt, “Thine stature doth beeth quite … Inspiring of awe! Truly, ‘tis one of the reasons it beeth such a pleasure to serveth thee! To knoweth that one of thine, er, figure! Remaineth at mine side-”
“That’s a very interesting way of calling me fat.”
Rouxls squeaked, the rest of whatever he wanted to say being muddled together with a string of barely thought out apologies and denials. The Prince wasn’t actually offended, he would be the first to admit that he could be considered downright ugly. But it was funny to see Rouxls, a man who spent most of his day preening in a mirror, scramble to try to find anything nice to say about his appearance.
“So you’re an advisor intimidated by the one he’s meant to be advising.” The Prince snorted, “Counterproductive once it’s laid bare, isn’t it? By the day, I have to question what my parents could have seen in you to hire someone so useless.”
The Prince had already turned the other direction, in time to not see the way Rouxls’ face dropped at the word ‘useless’.
“Here’s a tip, Kaard.” The Prince made to head back inside. Not having to check to make sure Rouxls was following; he was always at his heels like a loyal dog. No amounts of threats and harsh words would ever change that. “You should learn to better hide your fears. Your allies should not know your weaknesses so easily.”
Rouxls blinked in that vacant sort of way. The Prince had never tracked it closely enough, but he would not have been surprised if Rouxls blinked one eye at a time.
“Ah, allies, sire?” He questioned, leaning forward so he could meet the Prince’s face. “Thou meaneth mine enemies , aye?”
“I did not misspeak. While it is true you should guard yourself from enemies as well, your allies are far more dangerous.” The Prince shoved open the shoddy wooden doorway. He did not hold it for Rouxls, and it almost hit him in the face. “You never know when they may one day betray you. And when they do, they will know exactly where to press to make it hurt. Never lower your guard, or place too much trust in another.”
“I…seeth…” Rouxls seemed perturbed by that. Or, maybe just recovering from winning his fight with the door. “Thou’rt wise beyond thine years, sire. To shareth such wisdomes with me, I art grateful. However, pray tell?” He cleared his throat, “Thou…hath no plans to do sucheth thing to me, aye? To - harmeth me? Thine unwaveringly loyal servant?”
The Prince paused, scratching his claws thoughtfully along his chin.
“Don’t know, I haven’t decided yet.”
Chapter 3
Notes:
this one i think is a little shorter BUT the next chapter is where things start happening so :))
Chapter Text
“A royal shouldst dresseth in proper attire.”
The Prince scowled at his own reflection in the full length, spade-shaped mirror. Unable to look anywhere else as Rouxls was pressed up against him, fussing beneath his chin. Struggling to tie a pleated collar around his thick neck. A pretty little thing that the Prince himself was not dexterous enough to lace up; not without tearing the entire thing to shreds with his claws, anyways. Rouxls’ dainty fingers, however, were well-suited to the task, the downside being that it required the Prince to hold very still, and try not to twitch when Rouxls’ breath ruffled his fur.
“A royal should be allowed to dress however the hell he wants.” The Prince retorted, exhaling the breath he had been holding once Rouxls had finally managed to tie the clasp. Satisfied with his work, he got down from the step-stool he’d had to use to even reach the Prince’s neck in the first place.
Normally, appearance was something that the Prince could have cared less about. He had no delusions about his looks, and how said looks made him come off to the general populace. He was a burly, snarling beast, and he was fine with that fact. Dressing him in finery did nothing to offset this. The phrase ‘lipstick on a pig’ seemed fitting, in this regard. Though the Prince’s appearance had been compared more to a seal, or a bear, than to anything porcine.
This argument, unfortunately, had fallen upon deaf ears. As it had a thousand times before, and likely would a thousand times after. For today, the King of Diamonds had promised a visit. They were to be holding court with him, and the Prince had been ordered to be on his best appearances. The underlying note of “don’t embarrass us” did not go over his head.
Rouxls had been asked to prepare an ensemble for the occasion. And, to the Prince’s chagrin, it was probably the most excited he’d seen Rouxls since he’d first started working. For all of the intelligences Rouxls laced, he clearly knew what he was talking about when it came to fashion. Which was unsurprising, with how much time he spent fussing over his own clothing.
He’d spent a good part of the week animatedly reviewing what the Prince had in his closet. Noting what needed alterations and mends, making sketches of his ideas. Rouxls had tried to involve the Prince in this process as much as he could, shown him options and asked for his thoughts. But the Prince could have cared less, and waved Rouxls off everytime. Told him to do whatever he pleased.
Which was how he had ended up here, being treated like the world’s meanest dressup doll. It was the Prince’s own fault, really, that he hadn’t stepped in at any point and told Rouxls to tone it down. The final outfit had more laces and frills than an old woman’s apartment, and multiple pieces of finicky brass jewelry. He’d even sat still for long enough to let Rouxls manicure his claws. Hell, if Rouxls was any braver, he was sure he would have tried actually putting makeup on him, much like the metaphorical show pig.
The Prince felt ridiculous, by his own measure he looked ridiculous. At least Rouxls seemed to be having fun.
“I meaneth no insult to thee, sire.” Rouxls said, picking up a large piece of fabric and folding it over his arm. The final piece of his regalia; a heavy, fur-lined cape. “But I believeth thee wouldst wondereth naked, if ‘twas acceptable.”
The Prince couldn’t help but laugh at that, “You’re getting rather bold, Kaard!”
Rouxls’ confidence fled as soon as it had arrived, quickly shutting his mouth to any further snide remarks. He cleared his throat, moving the step-stool to the Prince’s back before clamboring up back on it.
“You’re not wrong, though. Were it not for such pesky things as societal norms, and public decency…”
The Prince could hear Rouxls making haggard noises behind him as he struggled to lift the cape high enough to reach his shoulders. It had to be at least half a dozen yards of velvet and fur; meaning it was maybe a bit too heavy for someone like Rouxls to hold up.
The Prince sighed, deciding to show a crumb of mercy. He lifted his paw to tug it forward, holding the collar in place so Rouxls could focus on pinning it. Even with his aid, Rouxls had to lean fully over to reach the front. His chest was pressed against the Prince’s shoulder, and the proximity meant he could hear how out of breath Rouxls was. The Prince had to wonder if he had some form of asthma (which would be ridiculous, he wasn’t even sure if Rouxls had anything like lungs to speak of), or if he really was just that weak.
“There!” Rouxls said triumphantly, somehow managing to fasten the spade-shaped broach without stabbing the Prince through the sternum.
Rouxls stood back up, a smile upon his face. One that seemed more real than the usual strained, people-pleasing, grin. He smoothed his hands out over the front of the Prince’s top, across his chest, checking that nothing was out of place. He brushed his hair out of his face, bracing his hands against the Prince’s shoulder as he admired the reflection of his work.
“Thou looketh so verye handsome!” Rouxls commented. He sounded pleased, but it was hard to tell if he was actually complimenting the Prince, or just boasting about his own work.
The Prince only rolled his eyes, stepping away from the mirror. Rouxls almost fell flat on his face from the sudden loss of his perch.
“Spare me the flattery,” The Prince snorted, tugging at the hem of his shirt to loosen it. One of the pretty, filigree buttons popped off right at the center. He thought he heard Rouxls stifle a frustrated whine. He’d had to fight so hard to get it buttoned around his broad chest in the first place. Not that the Prince really cared; served him right for not taking his measurements better.
“Let’s get going. The sooner this meeting is over, the sooner I can tear this shit off.”
Chapter 4
Notes:
Congrations you made it past the exposition now you're stuck here as I get emo about the backstory I hallucinated for this gag character based on like 3 lines of dialogue
This is the last chapter I wrote that was from all the way back in I think 2019, everything after this will be written with more POV of modern Deltarune knowledge taken into account. Also the chapter that made me want to pick up this fic again so. sniles sneetly.
Small TW for vomit towards the middle of this chapter, Rouxls strikes me as the kind of guy with the deranged level of anxiety that he will stress himself out so bad he gets sick and this is acknowledged here.
Chapter Text
The audience with the King of Diamonds was every bit as dull as the Prince had been expecting it to be. Nothing more than a set of monarchs droning on to each other about finances, and the Prince was forced to sit and listen. Combined with his uncomfortable clothing, it had not put him into the best of moods.
He didn’t even know why he had to be here, outside of keeping up appearances. It was not as if he was asked to participate. What the hell did he know about any of this, what the hell did he care? The Prince was just there to dress up, keep quiet, and keep still. As if he were a toddler being made to sit still during church services. The Prince would be twenty-four this autumn, and still, his parents treated him as if he were a misbehaving pup.
The Prince would sit, sure, but there was nothing saying that he had to sit politely. He was slouched into his chair, face pressed into palm as he listened to the boring talk out of lack of anything better to do. It was all in one ear and out the other for the Prince; he could already expect to receive a lecture later for not paying keener attention. ‘You need to know these things!’, they would say, ‘You will be king, one day! These things are important to know for keeping a kingdom hale and whole. Rouxls, you tell him, aren’t you supposed to be keeping him in check?’
The speech was always about the same. He’d heard it so often, now, that if the Prince really wanted to get a rise out of them, he could recite it right back to them word for word.
The Prince groaned as he slid further down into his chair, bored to the point of tears. He considered trying to close his eyes and fall asleep. It would not be the first time he’d napped through an “important” meeting. That sounded like a great idea, the more he thought about it. He folded his arms over the side of his chair, nuzzling his snout into the crook of his elbow; considered, even, pulling his cape up over his head…
Only to wake right back up when he heard a new noise come from the side of him. One that did not match at all with the professional chatter that the Prince was being slowly lulled to sleep by.
It was soft and…pitiful sounding. He lifted his head back up, turning towards the source of it. His gaze fell upon his advisor, who had been sitting besides him this whole time. Rouxls had been tasked with transcribing the meeting for the Spade Court’s records.
Currently, though, Rouxls was doing anything but notetaking.
Rouxls was curled up into a ball on his chair; knees pulled to his chest and his face buried into them. His arms were laced overtop of his head, hands gripping his paper and pen so tightly that it should have ripped. He shivered like he was freezing, melted slime oozing off his body in waves.
And he was…crying?
Yes, he was crying, no doubts.
The Prince paused, all of his irritation flushing away as he gawked at the unexpected sight. Rouxls’ body looked as if it had been left out for too long on a hot summer’s day. Long, white hair drooled like a mass of undercooked cake batter, a blue puddle had formed beneath him in the seat of his chair. Those noises he’d heard had come from Rouxls. He was making pathetic, awful sounds, only barely dampened by the position of his face against his knees. Like he was trying to be as unnoticeable as possible.
But; notice did the Prince.
The Prince sat up straighter, leaning over the armrest of his chair. Unsure what he should do here, really. He wasn’t even sure what was wrong. Hesitantly, he reached out his paw, resting it upon the other’s small back.
“...Rouxls?”
Rouxls gasped and jolted, whirling his head around to try to give the Prince his proper attention. It took everything in him not to recoil in disgust at what he saw. Rouxls’ entire face had melted; frankly it was hard to call what was left of it a face. His eyes were little more than white smears, milky white tears and indigo sludge trailed down off of him and down his chin. The entire front of his blouse was damp and stained blue.
Rouxls gave a watery hiccup, and when he spoke it sounded as if he were drowning.
“Ye-ye-yes, sire?” More than one strand of slime coated the inbetween of his lips as he opened his mouth; giving the impression of jailcell bars. His lisp was, at least, five times worse than usual.
“Are…are you alright?” That was a stupid question, clearly he was not. The Prince did not remove his paw, no matter how much slime was starting to stick to the fabric of his gloves. He’d even started to awkwardly stroke Rouxls’ back with his thumb. “Uh…why are you crying?”
Rouxls took a few gasping breaths, pressing his hand into his cheek. He used it to physically shove one of his eyes back into it’s proper placement.
“Doth-doth not worry over me, m-my lorde! Tw-’twill passeth, I assureth thee! Pr-pray, prithee, mind-mindeth me none, I-I-!” Rouxls was, as usual, terrible at bluffing. Especially now, as whatever flimsy excuse he had was forcibly cut short as his chest jumped a few times, struggling to catch his breath.
What…was this? The Prince frowned in concern. Some sort of panic attack? Why? Nothing had even happened...?
In an effort to look at anything but Rouxls’ horrifically disfigured face, the Prince’s gaze turned instead towards the paper Rouxls was gripping onto so tightly. It was crumpled to all hell, and his hands were melting into it, but there was no doubt that it was the transcript for today’s meeting. However, the Prince couldn’t help but notice that they’d been in session for some time now, and there seemed to be precious few words written upon the page.
“It doesn’t seem like something I’d like to ignore.” The Prince said, looking away from it. “Did something upset you?”
Rouxls shook his head, trying to brush melted hair out of his face.
“N-nay, I-I doth promise. Pl-please, please ignore me. It-it’s -” Rouxls suddenly jerked, his hand clapping over his mouth. Clutching at his stomach as if he were about to puke.
Alright, the Prince had seen enough. Clearly, Rouxls was unwell, and the least the Prince could do was save his dignity from the bystanding monarchs. Even though, still, they had yet to even acknowledge anything unusual was occurring. Maybe they didn’t see it, maybe they didn’t care.
“C’mon,” The Prince stood up as quietly as he could, “We’re getting you out of here.”
He lifted his advisor up under the arms, dragging him to his feet. Rouxls accepted his help without complaint; or, more realistically, was forced to accept it. He stumbled against him like his bones were made of jelly, and likely would’ve fallen over had the Prince not been holding him upright. (Well, his bones were actually made of jelly. Just usually more…solid jelly.)
The Prince tucked the smaller man against his side, draping his cape overtop of him so that nobody would gawk at them as they walked. The guards stationed at the exits did not try to stop them, and the two were allowed to journey to the Prince’s quarters in peace. At least it was not a long walk, and they arrived at their destination in short time. The Prince closed the door behind him as they entered, and guided Rouxls to sit down on the edge of his bed.
He was, honestly, at a loss of what to do here. The Prince was not a gentle person, he had never been. He didn’t know how one was meant to handle people who were hurt. That was, if Rouxls even was hurt? He was still melting, very badly, and doubled in half like he was about to be sick. Hopefully not on his mattress.
The Prince crouched down on his knees, cupping his large paws around Rouxls’ small hands. It was…unpleasant. Touching any part of Rouxls’ cold, wet skin always made him shiver in some distaste. At least those times, though, it hadn’t been leaking through the fabric of his gloves. Getting into the crevices of his pawpads and staining his fur. Eugh…the Prince had to repress the instinct to drop them as if they were something repulsive.
“Just breathe, Kaard, breathe.”
Rouxls was trying so desperately to do as he was told, but he was struggling hard. Hiccuping, choking on sobs, chest hitching.
“I-I can’t. I can’t- Ican’tIcan’t-”
“ Yes -” The Prince tightened his grip, “You can. You can talk, can’t you? So, you can breathe.”
Despite this assurance, Rouxls continued to struggle.
The Prince had an idea. He lifted Rouxls’ hand up, and pressed it tightly against his broad, fluffy chest. At first, Rouxls tried to jerk out of his grasp, startled at the closeness, but he was too weakened to fight his way out of it.
“Mimic me, breathe.”
Rouxls did his best to copy him. Trying to match his frantic breaths with the Prince’s steady, regular ones. It took some time, but slowly his wheezing started to grow quieter. His tears ceased their flow, and his face started to look - well, like a face again. Enough that the Prince could at least make out his eyes. For the first time, he noticed that they were two colors, his right eye being a much darker shade than the other. He was surprised he had not seen this sooner, with how much time they spent together. But, also, he was not usually spending that time staring deeply into his advisor’s eyes.
Things seemed like they were going well. Until, while the Prince was lost in admiring his discovery, he felt Rouxls tense. Frantically trying to rip his hands out from the Prince’s grasp. Confused, the Prince opened up his paw, and watched as Rouxls’ hands flew up over his mouth. Barely in time for Rouxls to retch, hard. A thin, black sludge leaked out from in between his fingers, and his eyes watered again. His already abnormally thin stomach contracted ever smaller.
Rouxls looked humiliated as he pulled his hands away from his face, the black vomit stretching away from him like watery putty. The Prince could not keep his disgust out of his face, and he also could not ignore how it had coated his chin and the collar of his shirt.
“I’m, I’mst sorrye…” Rouxls whined, trying to wipe the mess off on his shirt. May as well, the thing was completely ruined by this point.
The Prince sighed, reaching out to help Rouxls shed his filthy top. He couldn’t be bothered to properly undo the small, fiddly buttons, and opted instead to tear the entire garment down it’s front and slide it off of his shoulders. The absurdly frilly thing would likely need to be tossed, anyways, with how stained it was with both slime residue and now vomit. No use in trying to salvage the unsalvageable.
“Don’t worry about it,” The ruined shirt was tossed carelessly to the side, he’d deal with it later.
With Rouxls freed of his filthy clothing, though, they were soon faced with another problem. That problem being that the Prince was now forced to look at Rouxls’ bare, scrawny torso. It was not as if there was anything…really there. His slimy body was for the most part, featureless of all things a mammal might have. Still, it felt wrong to look at it - or maybe he was just getting an uncanny feel from it. There was a blanket thrown across his bed, and the Prince decided to use it. Draping it awkwardly around his advisor’s shoulders in attempts to protect the smaller man’s modesty.
“If…it makes you feel any better, I hated being in there, anyhow.” The Prince offered awkwardly, trying to feign any normalcy.
It was unclear if Rouxls appreciated it, or even found the remark funny. Even though his melting had mostly ceased, he was still shivering badly. The Prince wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or simply an aftershock of having made himself sick. He had noticed that Rouxls tended to not eat very much; but it had never been any of his business, so he’d never questioned it.
“...Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”
Not as if Rouxls had a choice to do anything but stay where he was. Still, he nodded, and hugged the blanket tighter around himself; curled up into a miserable little ball.
The Prince filled up a glass in the washroom sink, bringing it back to his bedside and sitting himself down on the opposite end. The mattress creaked and sank beneath his weight, which was usual, the Prince thought nothing of it. Though he had failed to take into consideration that Rouxls was significantly smaller than him. A fact that he had only thought of when he felt something slide and bump into his flank. Rouxls looked up at him with a horrified expression, hurrying to create distance between them again. As if he were afraid that the Prince would have something to say about daring to touch him, even though it had been through no fault of his own. The Prince did nothing besides give Rouxls a confused look, holding the filled glass out in his direction.
It was taken gladly, maybe a little too gladly. A few drops spilling out from the rim as Rouxls snatched it with both hands.
“I-I thanketh thee, sire!” Rouxls stammered out, before silencing himself with a very ungraceful gurgle. The damn idiot looked like he was trying to chug the whole glass at once.
The Prince…decided to leave him to it.
Something crinkled when he shifted his leg, it appeared as if something else had rolled down the mattress and into his thigh. It was that piece of paper that had been the catalyst for this entire episode, Rouxls must’ve forgotten that he’d been holding it. The Prince picked it up, having to carefully unfurl it with the tip of his claw to avoid destroying it even further. What the hell could’ve been on this thing to make Rouxls react so badly?
It was…totally illegible, honestly. What he at least hoped was blue ink, and not melted slime, had smeared across the entire page. Smudging the lettering and making the entire sheet slightly damp. While he couldn’t really read it, he could sort of make out the jist of what was on it. Fancy, cursive lettering, sentences stopping and starting, half-finished words that looked as if they were abandoned before the one next to it was picked up and worked on instead. A large portion of the top corner was taken up solely by the most loving rendition of the word “the” that the Prince had ever seen.
It was not hard for the Prince to make the connection of what had went wrong; Rouxls hadn’t able to keep up with his assigned task. He was such a high-strung individual; the Prince could perfectly see him winding himself up into a tizzy over struggling to transcribe words that he could not hear very well, or write down fast enough.
“...Did you not say that you used to perform court stenography?”
Rouxls stiffened, his mouth still lingering on the water glass that he had been chugging like a man dying of thirst. Using it as some sort of excuse not to speak. He swallowed hard, forming a visible lump in his throat as he inhaled a large mouthful of water at once.
“Thou hath…ah, quiteth a sharpened memory, Ser.” Rouxls said meekly, refusing to look in the Prince’s direction. He tapped his fingers against the now empty cup, making a soft, dull sound.
“What’s this about, then?” The Prince asked, holding the ruined scrap of paper up towards the nearest light. “This doesn’t look like shorthand to me.”
Quite the opposite, in fact. What words remained looked as if Rouxls had tried to match the font to the heavily stylized “the” on the top-left of the page.
Rouxls had to place the glass between his thighs before he dropped it. Or, before he started melting enough again that it would slip right through his fingers and shatter.
“...’Twould be remiss of mineself to not point out that, erm, ne’er hath I claimedest to beeth a verye good one.”
The Prince stared at him for a good, long while. Rouxls was doing his best to try and disappear into the blanket he was cocooned into. Still refusing to even look in the Prince’s general direction, like a dog avoiding acknowledging the vase it had knocked and shattered to the ground.
“You were never one to begin with, were you?”
Rouxls was dripping again, rivulets of goop falling down his jaw. Ugh, the Prince knew he was going to have to completely change his bedsheets by time this was over. Maybe he’d even have to throw them away, and the entire mattress alongside it.
Rouxls continued to tap at his glass instead of replying, said tapping growing more frantic. Staring very intently at his own hands.
“That is answer enough.” The Prince made a snort of disbelief, “You lied, did you? Made the whole thing up. It makes me wonder what else on that paperwork was pure fabrication. I’d wager that you had never worked a day in your life before coming to me.”
“That-that beeth not true!” Rouxls sat up to defend himself, finally daring to look in the Price’s direction. But still yet not brave enough to meet his eyes. Sure, he’d lied on his resume, so what? Maybe his stenography skills were exaggerated to none. But he drew the line at being called lazy!
“I hath worked, prior! That much beeth truth! In recordse, as welle!” Though, lo, ‘twas…” Rouxls cleared his throat, his confidence dying alongside his voice. “Perchance, not ast grande as I hath proclaimed it t’be. Perchance, mine duties layeth more alonge yonde lines of a simple receptionist…”
The Prince stared in disbelief, remembering that entire packet of paperwork that had been shoved into his hands upon their first meeting. All of his work history and references, accomplishments and certifications. Not a crumb of it had been truth? It conjured to mind the image of Rouxls Kaard huddled over a desk, scrawling down anything impressive he could think of. Conflicts and means of backing up his word be damned.
The idea was…Absurd; comical, even. This pathetic, sloppy thing, hardly able to speak in proper sentences. Claiming to have the most extensive and impressive work history the Dark World had ever seen, and maybe would ever see. Writing up a list of pretty lies to flash to a pair of monarchs for the esteemed privilege of advising their spoiled brat of an adult son.
The Prince could not help but wonder; why? To get closer to himself? To infiltrate the royalty? To look high society? Rouxls was so simple and so obscure at the same time, it could have been any one of those things and more.
Rouxls continued to be nervous as the Prince’s silence stretched on. Surely, he had been quiet for so long because he was thinking of all the ways to dispose of Rouxls for his trickery.
“You know…” The Prince said finally, Rouxls winced at what was surely to come. “For an idiot, you’re surprisingly smart.”
Rouxls dared to look up; finding that the Prince did not look angry at all. He was even…smiling?
“I’m almost impressed how you managed to keep this ruse going for so long. How long has it been now, a year and six months, just about? And never once did they think to question you?”
“Just about,” Rouxls confirmed, “Verily, ‘tis been so longeth since they hath asked me much of anythinge. I thought, perchance, they hath ceased to care. Or, verily, forgotten…”
That…sounded about right. The Prince’s parents hardly even gave him the time of day; why would they ever extend any courtesy towards his lackey? It was hard to say how much of the oversight was due to them being foolish and apathetic, and how much of it was them simply thinking Rouxls was doing a good enough job of keeping their son in check.
“Art, art thou,” Rouxls coughed again, “Going to revealeth mine subterfuge? Pray, sire, I beggeth thee reconsider! I hath been thine loyal servant for this longeth, I swear I hath no ill will towards thee! Surely thou wouldst not wisheth for another-!”
“Will you quit it with the simpering?” The Prince’s pool for sympathy was quickly running dry. Rouxls was lucky he did not reach over and silence him by grabbing at his face. “I have no interest in getting you fired. Frankly, Kaard, I’m impressed.”
The Prince quickly realized he should not have said that, as the scrap of praise went straight to Rouxls’ head. He fixed his posture, eyes lighting up in glee. Preening over himself and his proclaimed impressiveness; while still half-naked and wrapped up in a blanket. There was even some drool still stuck to his chin.
“Don’t act so proud of yourself,” The Prince narrowed his eyes, “You’re still a little weasel.”
It was too late, Rouxls didn’t care. Yes, he was a weasel! A very good weasel! The best sneaky, lying rat that the Card Kingdom had ever seen! How very impressive of he!
The Prince made an exasperated sigh, knowing that it was a lost cause. He left Rouxls to his peacocking, and thought of what to do from here. He had no interest in returning to the courtroom; even if he did return, he knew he’d just be interrogated as to why he’d walked out in the first place. Which, not only did he not want to explain himself, he also did not want to reveal the secret he and Rouxls now shared.
By his estimation, they had about an hour to kill before his parents would notice their absence.
“...So, what else have you been lying about?”
Chapter Text
‘What does she have that I don’t?`
Rouxls realized it was probably one of the stupidest things he could’ve ever asked, which was really saying something. But the thought kept circling in his head as he stared into the mirror of his vanity, as he had been for the past twenty minutes or so. He’d only barely woken up for the day, and already he was spiraling into his own anxiety-throttled thoughts. Dressed only in a morning robe that had fallen down his white-freckled shoulders, and holding a mascara wand in his shaking hand; he scrutinized his reflection. Trying to find the flaw that must have been there.
Had to have been there.
He had to be flawed.
Why else would the Prince have lost interest in him?
Strange new Darkners had been appearing in the Card Kingdom lately. Ones that were unlike anything that anyone there had seen before. They were made of shiny metal, colorful plastic, and something called “code”. Another kingdom had been the best explanation Rouxls had been given.
And with them, she had shown up.
Another monarch, one who held power over this foreign kingdom. The one that was slowly, but surely, stealing the Prince away from him. The Prince would have probably scoffed at the notion that the relationship he held with her would qualify as “dating”; but it was clear enough that they were, at least, flirting. Rouxls may have not known a lot of things, but he knew damn well what flirting looked like.
But oh, why did he care? Of course the Prince wasn’t being “stolen” from him. He just - had a new relationship! That was all! Why was that something to be so upset by?
Rouxls wasn’t jealous or anything, of course he wasn’t! He had no reason to be! There was nothing between them beyond a working relationship. The Prince was his employer, after all.
An employer that he had lied to get close to.
An employer who he wished desperately to remain his and his alone.
…But these were usual thoughts to have, of course. Who didn’t crave job security, in this economy?
Rouxls didn’t want to appear as a clingy, jealous lover - so he had the courtesy to give them their space. Even if doing so made that worrying void in his chest grow. More often than not he found himself as he was now, sitting in a mirror, and asking what was wrong with him.
He was beautiful, he’d been told so many times. Enough times that it must’ve been true. When he looked at himself, he agreed with the assessment that his appearance was his best trait. His silky hair, long limbs, pretty eyelashes… He had a body that most people would torture themselves to achieve.
Beautiful…but not perfect.
That woman though.. She was perfect. She was sleek and plastic, there was nothing on her to ever be concerned about being out of place. If she had any flaws, they could be quickly fixed up by a fresh coat of paint and new plating.
Rouxls looked down at his hands, at the way a thin strand of slime connected between his two fingers. In comparison to her…? Well, he couldn’t compare. Simple as.
Rouxls was stuck in the body he was created in. Maybe he couldn’t change it, but he could cover it up. He could mold it into something more appealing, more acceptable - more pretty. Even if he had been slacking lately. He’d gotten far too comfortable with the Prince, and he thought he’d never see the day he was fighting for his attention.
If only she hadn’t shown up…
Rouxls put down the wand, the mascara already having dried up anyways.
He knew the Prince didn’t feel any sort of way about him. And, if Rouxls was being entirely honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he felt too strongly about the Prince either. He was not the only high-ranking official in the land; hell, not even the only royal. Surely, one of the other suit monarchs would have a relative around Rouxls’s age? Slightly older…? But…Rouxls knew that he didn’t want to try and pursue one of the other suit monarchs, or anyone else for that matter.
Rouxls knew what his true intentions were, and why he had responded so eagerly to that job offer those years ago. And he knew why he was so afraid, it wasn’t that he feared losing the Prince.
He feared having to start over.
Staring over… Rouxls could not take his eyes off of the mirror. It sounded so daunting, seeing what he now had to work with. No longer the spry 19 year old he was when he’d waltzed up to the Prince with a false resume. Now after years of thinking he’d gotten it right on the first try… It was not ideal. It was probably not a fair assessment, as he did still have his bedhead and hadn’t even begun doing up his face. But staring at his unkempt self did not make him feel any better. Especially as his eyes trailed lower, at the way his loose robe fell around his body, around his torso…
Rouxls needed to get a hold of himself. Needed to step up and fix himself. Being pretty was his purpose, correct? That’s what he’d been told, that’s what he believed. It was the only purpose that had ever been ascribed to him. And if he wasn’t pretty… what use was he? To the Prince, to anyone?
Darkners were meant to have a purpose, a reason for being. Something about them that made Lightners coo and cherish them. Everyone Rouxls had known through his life knew their purpose and relished in it… Everyone except for himself. He’d never been able to figure it out.
He may not have found that purpose at the Prince’s side, but he’d found protection. And, maybe if he tried harder, to be pretty, to be useful, the Prince would find him worthwhile enough to not be thrown away.
A half-hour later, Rouxls found himself in the wardrobe getting dressed. It was a usual routine, slipping into his small clothes, finding a top he wanted to wear today. He passed by his vanity again on the way to deliver his chosen outfit to his bed.
He paused. He stared into it.
He laced his corset a notch tighter.
Chapter 6
Notes:
Small TW for a vague mention of an eating disorder in this chapter. I WANT TO CLARIFY this will probably not be brought up in this fic again, or if it is very sparsely and vaguely. It's mostly just a nod of this is part of Rouxls' bad internal thinking going on through all of this and not something I want to linger on a lot!!
Chapter Text
“Anyway; So I Hit Him With My Car.”
The force of the Prince slapping the table rattled Rouxls’ wine glass so hard that scarlet droplets fell and stained the tablecloth beneath it. Rouxls tried to hide his noise of discontentment as he steadied his grip on it to avoid further spillage. Wincing at the loud, bellowing laugh the Prince let out at the story that Rouxls did not find all that funny. But, regardless of his opinions, he tried to force a polite laugh alongside them, just to feel included. Inevitably, his pathetic attempt was drowned out between the Prince’s barking, and the odd, monotone, mechanical sound that seemed to be his date’s form of laughter.
Date.
That’s what this was.
Of course, he had not called it that, when the Prince had extended an invitation to Rouxls. And, likely, if he was asked about it now, he would still not call it that. But, it was hard not to call a spade a spade (especially when in regards to the Prince).
Rouxls had not even been informed that she would be here.
The Prince had only described this outing as having dinner together, and Rouxls’ chest had soared. The Prince had not lost interest in him after all! He was being invited to dinner! Invited!! Rouxls was never invited! Normally, he would just show up, and the Prince would find the effort of throwing him out of the dining hall to be more cumbersome than allowing him to stay.
But, his elation was not to last. As all of those feelings popped like a burst balloon when Rouxls had shown up to dinner and saw that he was not the only person that had been invited. And that he had put in far more effort than either of them. He had spent the past two hours making himself as close to perfect as possible - Making sure his hair was clean, donning his best attire, perfecting his make up, etc. etc.
“Queen” was the nickname that the Prince had suggested for her, after Rouxls himself had repeatedly stumbled over the long string of letters and numbers that was her real name. The moniker was more than a bit presumptuous, if you wanted Rouxls Kaard’s opinion, but he kept that to himself. Though he would concede that it was much easier to say.
The two of them were made for each other. A match made in hell. They were messy, and loud, and cared little about how they were perceived by anyone else around them. Initially, the Prince’s parents had been thrilled to hear that their son had taken interest in a royal from this new and exciting kingdom. Until it was revealed that Queen held just as much respect for her position as the Prince did; which was to say, none at all.
Next to them, Rouxls could not have looked - or felt - more out of place. Dressed in his fineries, while the two of them wore only their casual attire. Barely participating in their loudly spoken conversations, and having to flinch away whenever either of them spilled food or drink in his direction. Especially if it was that bubbling, green liquid that Queen seemed a little too fond of - He’d learned the hard way that, whatever it was, it did not play nice with fabric. Or - any other part of Rouxls’ body, for that matter.
Rouxls couldn’t fathom why he had been invited in the first place. He was beginning to think it was just to humiliate him. He sat there, barely acknowledged, and barely questioned. He hadn’t even touched his food - though that was becoming the norm, as of late. Rouxls had… lost much of his appetite - Not that he had much of one in the first place. But now, the mere sight of food made him queasy. (Or, maybe that was just the side-effects of drinking too much wine on an empty stomach.)
Whether it be out of lack of care, or lack of notice, Rouxls’ shifting habits around his food had never been called into question. All he had to do was wait until the Prince would, inevitably, look at his untouched plate and ask if he was going to “finish that?”. To which Rouxls would happily allow him to dispose of the evidence of his self-imposed starvation.
Like as not, the Prince did it with no malice. It was highly likely that he took no notice of the fact that, more than half of the time, he was being given a full plate. Rouxls had always been a scrawny thing that barely ate, of course it wouldn’t flag any alarms. Maybe he genuinely thought he was being helpful. Maybe he was just insatiable. The latter, more likely.
“So Like; What’s This Guy’s Deal?”
Rouxls was pulled from his dour thoughts when he felt a lock of his hair being twirled around a slim finger. Astonished that Queen had even taken notice of his presence. He stared at her with wide eyes and a flushed face - though he dared not shoo her off. She was quite… touchy, and Rouxls was not used to being touched. It was not as if the Prince was the most affectionate person, and he did not hang around much of anyone else.
Rouxls would have answered her question, but looking at her now… He felt as if his mouth had been stuffed with cotton.
The Prince made a snort into the stein his muzzle was buried into. He’d been lapping at the last dregs of alcohol at the bottom of it. When he pulled his face out, he ran his tongue over his nose in a poor attempt at cleaning himself up. In any other circumstance - Rouxls would have scolded him for it. Stressed to him, for probably the thousandth time, the importance of keeping his fur clean. White was so easy to stain, and so hard to make clean again.
But he dared not say anything in front of Queen, fearful of any impressions she might get of him if he said anything out of line. Though, it did not stop him from cringing when the Prince made a wet belch, and wiped off his mouth on his sleeve.
“Well? Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Kaard?”
Of course he had felt no concern over Rouxls’ uncharacteristic silence. Why would he notice anything was off at all, when he had been having so much fun just talking to Queen? If Rouxls wanted to delude himself, maybe he could blame the alcohol for making the Prince so unawares. But… he knew, deep down, even if he had been sober, Rouxls would have faded into the background anyways.
Well - Rouxls did not have to drop his manners just because the Prince was acting a disgusting brute. He cleared his throat and sat straight, causing his hair to slip from Queen’s fingertips.
“Mine apologies, sire. Thou seemeth so enthralled with the lady’s storie! ‘Twould hath been uncouth of mineself to have interfered.” He reached forward to cup Queen’s hand in his own. And in the most gentlemanly manner, pressed a reverent kiss to the back of it. “Rouxls Kaard, my lady Queen, Royal Advisor of the Court of Spades. ‘Tis a pleasure to meeteth thine acquaintance most properly.”
A pause.
Then silence.
She didn’t react at all.
It was hard to read Queen’s expressions when she didn’t really have eyes. But an ellipsis appeared on the visor she had in place of them - animated in a cycle of the dots blinking in one after another.
Finally; “Wow. This Guy Speaks In Cursive.”
The Prince, to her side, burst out laughing again. Rouxls tried to mask how crushed he felt by the reply. His grin twitching wider, letting go of her hand before she could feel how much he was trembling.
“No. Aw. Don’t Look Like that.”
Not masking it enough, clearly.
“It’s - Cute. Really. Your Whole - Thing You Have Going On. The Little Victorian Boy Thing. Or Whatever.”
It was hard to tell if she was being sincere, with her monotone way of speaking. Her smile looked strained at the corners, like she was struggling to find something nice to say about him. Which, to Rouxls, just made him feel worse.
“Bah, worry not, he’ll get over it.” The Prince said, waving down a castle servant to refill his glass. “Tell me more about these Swatchlings you have.”
And, just like that, Rouxls became background noise again.
It felt… bad when she poked fun at him. Why did it only feel bad coming from her? The Prince made fun of him so often, and had much worse things to say. Rouxls never took any of those to heart, so why here?
Maybe he was just used to the Prince’s demeanor, for all the years he’d known him for. He was gruff and mean to just about everyone. And if he truly disliked Rouxls that much, he would not have hesitated to drop him.
Queen, however, he barely knew. Her way of speaking made it hard for Rouxls to get a good read on her, and when Rouxls couldn’t understand something - he just became fearful of it. But, as much as she intimidated him, and as much as he felt something he could only assume was jealousy when he saw her spending time with the Prince. Rouxls did not… dislike her. Quite the opposite, even. She was pretty, and he liked it when she had touched his hair just now. And, god he just desperately wanted her to like him. It was just the circumstance of everything that made him feel anything negative towards her, and he felt terrible at himself for that.
She really wasn’t bad at all. His fear of being replaced just won out above all else.
Maybe he should switch up his tactics. Perhaps, if he got in the good graces of both of them, they would find a reason for him to stay.
Chapter Text
It was a beautiful wedding.
And a wedding that Rouxls should have been expecting.
Yet, when the Prince had come to deliver him the good news; with the widest grin he’d ever seen plastered across his face, and his soon to be bride perched upon his arm; it had felt like nothing less than a punch to the gut.
Planning began straight away. It was to be hosted at Card Castle, and no expenses were to be spared.
Catering and staffing were not an issue, Queen had called upon her personal horde of butlers to tend to the occasion. Rouxls did not mean to stare, but his gaze did linger for maybe longer than it should have upon the buff bird men as they milled about the crowd, attending to guests and delivering drinks. It didn’t help that they were dressed in very… skimpy uniforms. (Per request of Queen herself, no doubt.)
Instead of their normal spiffy suits, they wore nothing but small neckties and sleeveless bodysuits that barely covered their broad chests. And….did not cover their ass at all. Rouxls even caught one of them blushing as they had to correct where it had ridden up too far. The few servants from the Kingdom were overdressed by comparison. In any other circumstance, it would have been hard to believe they were all here for the same event.
The citizens of the Card Kingdom and Cyber City alike were given a public invitation to attend, and attend they did. The combination of the two populaces meant the ballroom was packed to the brim. But, luckily for Rouxls, he would not have to brave that crowd, for Rouxls had been given the highest honor of being the best man.
The Prince - or, Rouxls guessed he would be calling him King, soon - had even gone so far as to ask Rouxls to coordinate his attire. Asked! Willingly! He normally hated the fancy clothing that Rouxls tried to stuff him into!
It was a request that should have elated him. Should have reassured him that the Prince did still care about him, or at least was not yet done with his services. That he would not be fired, or forgotten about, once the knot had been tied. But he just…couldn’t muster any joy for the task. He didn’t know why.
“Maybe I should cover my stomach.”
In the dressing room, with the ceremony due to start any moment now, the Prince was stalling for time by fretting over himself in a mirror. How different it was to see him actually care about his own appearance, for a change. The maw he was debating covering made worried huffs that betrayed his true feelings, even as his face remained grim as ever.
“I…I don’t know. What are your thoughts?” He looked over towards the wardrobe, where Rouxls stood.
The direct question made Rouxls snap out of whatever daze he was in, body jolting as if he’d been shocked. He’d been staring at two different ties, and had been for an abnormally long time. He couldn’t recall what he had been trying to decide on, and arbitrarily picked the navy one.
“I wouldst sayeth nae.” Rouxls replied, holding the tie out so that the Prince could reach. “It doth not striketh me as the mostest comfortable of decisionse, yeseth?”
The Prince snatched up the accessory without ceremony, looping it around his neck and clumsily trying to tie it.
“No, it would not be.” He said, the rough demeanor Rouxls was used to returning to his voice, “Speaking from experience, it feels much like wearing a muzzle.”
It was not to last, though, as nerves quickly took over again. He looked down at himself with his lips drawn tight, fidgeting at the ends of his still undone tie.
“I just…worry, you know? About it - about me - being…unsightly, or the like. Her guests are not anything like us. What if they think it’s - or if she thinks I-”
There was some humor to be found in the situation. With Rouxls being finally placed on the other end of dealing with another person’s anxieties. It was the first time that the Prince actually seemed unsure of himself. It was…sweet, dare he even say endearing. A side of him that Rouxls had never had the privilege of seeing before.
It was enough that Rouxls forgot about his dread, just for a moment. He gave a small smile, and sighed fondly, motioning for the Prince to lean down.
“I believeth thou’rt overthinkinge it.” Rouxls reassured him, reaching up to help him with his tie. “‘Tis nothinge she hath not seeneth prior. I assureth thee, if it ‘twas at all disconcerting to she, or her subjects, such talks wouldst hath surely arisen by nowe.”
He tugged at both sides of the bow he’d made, making sure it sat straight on the Prince’s neck.
The Prince made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. “You…raise a good point. I suppose you are right. If anything, they can learn to deal with it. After all -” He straightened back up once Rouxls had finished his work, the silk slipping out of his fingertips. “I will be their king, after tonight.”
He fixed Rouxls with a grin, showing off all his teeth. Any joy Rouxls had felt was quickly dashed with the reminder, and his soft smile turned into a forced grin. It felt like a lead weight had been tied around his throat.
What business did he have feeling this way? He should be happy! Joyous! His closest colleague was getting married, did that not call for celebration? A royal wedding was supposed to be a good thing, right?
Right….?
Rouxls would not get his answer, as the Prince was too blinded by his own pre-ceremony nerves to really take notice of the dip in Rouxls’ demeanor. Even as his hands had remained in the air where the Prince had once stood for far too long of a beat.
“Well, I should get a move on. An open bar can only keep a crowd entertained for so long.” The Prince made an amused snort at his own observation; Rouxls felt himself laughing along out of nothing but reflex.
It was hard for Rouxls to recall what happened after that. It was as if he was witnessing the events through a layer of cheesecloth. He somehow did not trip or stumble as he followed the motions he’d rehearsed. Stand by the Prince’s side at the altar; comment on how lovely Queen looked in her dress (which made her look at him odd, as she was wearing a suit); smile, hand over the rings, so drastically different in size.
The minister, a dove-shaped Darkner, drawled out his speech with little enthusiasm. He’d done this a thousand times before, and was starting to get bored of this job.
The couple were hardly listening, anyways, as before he could even get to the part about kissing the bride, the Prince had already taken initiative. All of his nerves seemingly gone as he cupped his paws at the small of Queen’s back and dipped her low, pressing his muzzle sloppily against her flat face. She laughed in return and leaned into it, hooking her leg up over his back, as they came just short of tongue kissing at the altar.
The officiant made an offended gasp at the obscene display. But any scolding about disrespecting the sanctity of the court was drowned out by the loud cheers of the attendance. Flower petals, confetti, and various other items being tossed into the air. Rouxls’ only thoughts on the matter were that he expected nothing less - and that a piece of Dark Candy had been tossed at his head.
The reception didn’t make Rouxls feel any less like a zombie being pulled through the motions of being alive. There was a table for the guests of honor, Rouxls had a seat at it. A more modestly dressed bird man was the table’s personal attendant. This one looked a little different from the others, he had a smaller stature and wore glasses. This one seemed to be Queen’s favorite, she was far more chatty with him than any of the others, and she found a way to touch him every time he came around to refill her glass of acid. She even tried to convince him to join in on the first dance; a request that was politely declined.
Rouxls couldn’t recall much else. The drinks had been flowing, and he wanted to blame the wine for his haze. Blame it for why he felt as if he was not actually there. Sure, he knew that, bodily, he was sat at the table, laughing along with the stories and jokes. But, simultaneously, it felt as if he was a thousand miles away - watching the events unfold on a badly deteriorated film reel.
At some point, when the newlyweds had left for the dancefloor, someone came by to talk. Or, at least they tried to. There was a soft paw on his arm, and a gentle voice. Rouxls didn’t know what he had responded with, or if he had responded at all. But he must have said something, as the next thing he knew, he was being led away from the table by that same paw. Rouxls thought he heard the Prince’s - no, King, he was the King now - loud laugh, and he turned to see what was so funny. Only managing to catch the briefest glimpse of him scooping up his bride and twirling around with all the grace of a drunken elephant.
Rouxls blinked, and his surroundings completely changed. There were no more dancing newlyweds, no more loud music, no half-naked bird men and chattering guests. The music of the reception had muffled, and sounded like it was coming from his behind. He deduced that he must have been in the hallway, it felt so dark and quiet in comparison to the party happening just a wall away. It was preferable.
That soft grip had never left him, he was not alone out here. They were crouched down in front of him (Rouxls must have been sitting), and holding his hand in both of their own. Rouxls thought he knew this person. In fact, he was almost certain that he did. He recognized the purple fur and the orange button eyes that looked at him with a deep concern. For some reason, though, he could not bring to mind their name. Why was that?
As Rouxls pondered that, he realized they were speaking to him. Their voice sounded as if it was being filtered through three feet of water, he could only barely make out what he was being told. They asked what was wrong, if he was okay, and told him they were worried.
Rouxls shook his head, the motion only made him dizzy. He told them it was nice of them to check, but that he was fine, really! He needed to get back to the party, though, King would be missing him soon enough (was he being too optimistic to think that his absence had even been noticed?). He thought he had said all of that aloud, but he couldn’t really tell.
He tried to pick himself up off the floor (right, he had been sitting), and reached up to fix his hair from where it had fallen into his face. Had to make sure he was presentable before he went back inside!
His hands came back wet with tears.
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