Archive of Our Own ^omega

Chapter Text

The House of the Hearth is a well renowned, high-end brothel in the northern parts of the Fontainian empire. The house boasts a reputation for providing unforgettable nights of entertainment and pleasure. Within its walls lives a selection of courtesans, the children of the hearth, said to be able to cater to any desires their clients may hold. Each is masterfully trained in hospitality, a wide selection of fine arts, and skills in eroticism that are unrivaled by any other brothel in the nation.

Within the past few years, a particular set of courtesans have earned a reputation for themselves that lives even outside the walls of the Hearth and its usual clients. A pair of twins that possess otherworldly beauty, are well versed in literature, display incredible skill in games of wit, and promise a night of magic and wonder to any clients that visit them. Their marketability has awarded them quite the hefty price tag, but no one has ever left their company feeling as though they didn’t get their money’s worth. They’ve even grown so popular that they’ve created new clients of the Hearth who are interested to just see them perform as opposed to service them, and so a line of men and women alike form outside the brothel’s door once a month to buy a seat for their highly acclaimed magic shows.

As for their usual services, an hour alone with just one twin would cost most people a several month’s worth of pay, and a whole night would be multiples times their annual income. Those who were considered relatively wealthy such artisans may be able to afford the hour after saving for several weeks, but almost none of them ever do. The reason that the twins are so notoriously exclusive is that they only ever come as a set, requiring any potential client to have enough to afford both of their fees at once. That stipulation is what keeps them perpetually out of reach for most clients, save for the occasional wealthy merchant or noble who would travel out to the small city. Even then, those clients tend to only be willing to part with enough money to buy them a handful of hours, most of which is taken up by entertaining. 

Of course, that alone doesn’t save them from having to do the dirty work every once in a while when a particularly rich person of high status comes to visit. If not for an earl that passed through some years ago, the twins may have gone their entire careers without having to have sex with a client. At the very least, the rule that they must be bought together makes it so that Lynette can never be separated from Lyney. Not ever again.

On one hand, serving wealthy clients also means Lyney can pocket enough money for himself to create a decently sized savings. On the other, his sister is still well out of his budget. They accepted the role of courtesans out of necessity, and by all standards, it was an incredibly generous offer Arlecchino made to them. The Father of the house found them at their lowest and granted them a life where they would be fed, bathed, and protected in exchange for selling themselves to her. Regardless of how comfortable their lives have become in comparison to their early childhood, they do not have their freedom. Breaking a contract comes with dire, and often fatal consequences. Lyney has worked obsessively since becoming a consort to be the best at what he does in order to earn as much as he possibly can. It’s taxing at times, but he remains steadfast in his plan to buy himself and his sister out of their contracts.

Wriothesley is a high-ranking noble who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Shortly after his title was officially bestowed upon him by the empress, rumors began to spread far and wide, but the only thing people truly know is that he is a close confidant of the high priest. It’s been years since he’s taken up his role, and he remains an enigma to the general populace, including many other nobles.

He’s been known to have had a handful of lovers through the years, but to the confusion of many, he’s never taken a bride. He has no known blood relatives of any kind, and no heir to his fortune. With the lack of a clear explanation as to why, even more rumors spread. Some say that Wrio left a trail of blood during his climb to his position as duke, sparing not so much as his own parents’ lives. Perhaps his dubious means to climb to power have left him paranoid, fearing any of his kin would strike him down just the same.

The truth of the matter is that Wriothesley just doesn’t care for politics. A marriage is never just the union of two people, it’s a statement of alliance. It stirs the pot and can even potentially bring forth new enemies. He’s been enjoying his newfound life of luxury as duke, and he has many good relations with others, so why spoil it? At least, that’s how he reasoned it to himself until recently. As his hair continues to grey and the lines around his mouth and eyes cut deeper into his skin, he’s begun to consider what will happen to his assets when he departs from the world. Surely his death will create a power vacuum and a struggle will ensue as vultures swoop down to collect his remains. Perhaps he should reconsider.

There are few who know that Wriothesley gained his power in part by usurping the previous duke of his land. The story isn’t one of glory and triumph through battle, but rather the amassing of admirers and comrades until he found a small army behind him and consequently finding himself in the company of friends in high places. Once he had been confident of his influence, Wriothesley had intended to challenge the duke, but he found that he had fled the country before Wrio even had breached his palace. His predecessor had left behind a legacy of cruelty and violence, and so the people of the duchy were eager for a more competent and humanitarian overlord.

Since assuming his position, he’s kept himself occupied with official duties and developing his dukedom into the financial and industrial pillar of the country that it is now. The thought that all of his hard work could be placed in the hands of another power hungry sadist similar to the previous duke is enough motivation to look into his options. Adopting a child for him to raise alone had crossed his mind, but perhaps it’s true what the rumors say about his paranoia. He wonders if complications could arise, as many people value true bloodlines. Some may not believe in the legitimacy of an adopted child’s right to inherit the dukedome, and they may struggle in maintaining the respect of the people. Perhaps he could find a child similar in visage to him enough that he could fool the populace, but he won’t be totally settled until he’s raised his successor with his own hands from infancy, and people will question who the other parent is. Wrio prefers to take the path of least resistance when possible, so the traditional way of obtaining an heir seems to meet his needs.

The question then became about who would be fit to bear him a child. Most nobles tend to seek spouses of other noble lineages, but Wrio didn’t trust aristocrats to share his values. It;s important to him that his successor understand that respect is earned rather than given, and that all good things are earned through hard work and perseverance. He wouldn’t want a partner who would grow too attached, either, as he doesn’t want to concern himself with romance. They would want to marry him for the sole purpose of conceiving and raising a child, then be content living their life independently from him, or perhaps as part of his staff. Perhaps the most difficult trait to seek in his ideal partner is that they should have worked for the things they have, but are still cultured enough to meet the incredibly high expectations of a consort who will be interacting with nobility. 

With his standards written on paper, the duke creates a team of individuals tasked with traveling the nation, surveying for possible contenders and returning with their findings. Over the course of the next several weeks, he reviews the profiles gathered by his appointed surveyors, organizes them by relative distance, and begins a campaign of traveling to form his own opinions in person.

Lyney and Lynette thought little of the representatives of the duke who came to visit the Hearth, even as they were asking very specific questions about them. If anything, Lyney was a bit relieved. It had been some time since they’ve had a big spender, so he can only hope to wring this potential client’s pockets dry. They were given an estimated range of dates of when to expect him, and they made all the necessary preparations. Thoroughly cleaning the rooms, grooming themselves to perfection, and polishing their finest tea sets. Apparently, their visitor is quite the connoisseur for such things.

Wriothesley has arrived just as planned, and is given a very warm welcome into the brothel with the celebrity twins themselves greeting him at the entrance. Lyney and Lynette lead him to a prepared room and allow him to choose from a selection of teas to brew for him. Once he’s settled and comfortable, they ask if he has a preference of consort he’d like to spend his time with. They already know the answer, but it’s always polite to ask. After confirming that Wriothesley has enough money to spend the evening with them both, the twins immediately become more attentive. Their smiles widen, gazes soften, and voices carry a sweetened overtone that lands perfectly in Wriothesley’s ear. They perform to the best of their ability, dazzling him with illusions and tricks of all sorts, playing instruments and games, and pouring a black tea brewed to perfection.

Much to Lyney’s annoyance, the man doesn’t drink liquor. He finds that drunken men are more reckless with their spending, but thankfully this duke seems to have brought a large sum of money and has no issue racking up a tab for himself. He’s even gone so far as to buy company for his traveling companions in the other rooms. As the evening progresses, the twins slowly begin to peel off layers at a time, tastefully exposing skin in a way that flows naturally with the activities. They’re seductive, yet demure. Nymph-like. They expertly read into subtle cues from Wriothesley, gathering what excites him and responding accordingly. They get closer, welcome small touches, invite themselves to place hands on Wriothesley’s arms and chest. Playful, teasing, and terrifyingly professional.

Wriothesley isn’t so naive as to believe any of their routine is sincere. He’s here on business and well aware of their intentions, and has caught small but important glimpses into their individual personalities. He can’t expect either of them to put on this show for an entire marriage, after all, so he’s been very vigilant of observing what slips through the cracks. That said, there’s no point in denying himself life’s simple pleasures. They’re beautiful, and undoubtedly talented. If Wrio was any weaker a man, he might let them rummage through his treasury if they asked in those heavenly voices that drip like honey off their tongues.

The twins are from the streets just as he is, or at least that’s what the reports on them say. Wrio’s men had heard from others in the brothel that they had been taken in as children to be servants for the house, then started as courtesans in their late teens. It’s clear that they’ve worked incredibly hard to gain notoriety in just a few years, and the duke isn’t ignorant to the sheer amount of time, effort, and skill it takes to do well in this kind of career. Even with the glowing report he read prior to his trip out to the brothel, the twins have exceeded his expectations. They truly embody everything that the Hearth markets itself to be.

Lyney, in particular, has struck Wriothesley’s interest. Part of the twins’ act seems to be a dichotomy. Lynette is the more reserved, timid, and passive of the two, whereas Lyney takes on a much more actively flirtatious and forward role. It’s very cute and surely a novelty many clients enjoy, but Wriothesley has always been more attracted to bigger personalities for the simple reason that they’re more fun to talk to. It may be safe to assume that Lyney is also the more ambitious between the two with how he seems to take the lead in their little performance. Either twin would make a perfectly fine consort, but Lyney gives Wriothesley the impression that he could rise to the occasion in the way that the duke is hoping for. 

Only a few hours into his first visit with the twins, he’s made his decision.

Lyney is sat at Wriothesley’s side, reaching across Wrio’s chest and taking the fabric of his shirt between his thin fingers, pretending to be interested in the quality of the materials used to make it. As he does so, Wrio speaks softly, his eyes focused on the soft features of Lyney’s face. “How much is left on your contract?

Lyney glances up through his blond lashes with those sparkling lavender eyes, then smiles. Only the duke’s first visit and hasn’t even gotten naked, and yet he’s already willing to make an offer on Lyney. “Have I really made such a good impression on you? I’m very flattered to know I’ve pleased you so much. It seems it’s time to invite our Father into the room with us.”

Wriothesley agrees with a nod of his head.

While the hearth is known for it’s nights of exotic pleasure and luxury entertainment, Arlecchino specifically is known for being an imposing figure. As she’s ushered into their room, Wriothesley can see it for himself. Even as a woman, she’s taller than most men and with a presence of someone even twice her size. Her eyes are sharp and give the impression that she can see right through whoever she sets her gaze upon. Lyney and Lynette both acknowledge her entry with a bow of their heads as she takes her seat in front of Wriothesley, either twin at his side gently caressing.

Arlecchino folds her hands and places them in her lap politely, focusing her attention on her client. “I’m told you’d like to inquire about my children. Is that true?”

”That’s correct. As I hope was made clear before my arrival, I am searching for a qualified courtesan to take as my consort,” Wriothesley replies. 

“Yes, your men had stated as much when they asked permission to peruse what my house has to offer.”

The twins listen closely, but make little reaction beyond their shared glance. He intends to make a consort of him, does he? Lyney is confident in his skills as a courtesan, and though he’s garnered many admirers who have pleaded for his hand, he doubts that he’s managed to charm the duke so much that he’s fallen in love. It must be that he’s made a habit of collecting any pretty thing he takes an interest in and intends to take Lyney home as some sort of trophy or toy to add to his collection. Typical and entirely unsurprising of a nobleman with money to burn.

Lyney expects this to go as it usually does. Father will reveal the cost of Lyney’s contract in no uncertain terms, the noble tries to bargain the price down. Some rescind their offer, less capitulate to the price. Just as they begin to convince themselves that the cost is worth taking one of them home, Arlecchino continues to explain the stipulation that both twins must be bought together. Lyney takes something of a sadistic pleasure as he watches the noble’s hopes be crushed as they realize the ludicrous price they had only barely managed to find the will to part with has now doubled. This has never failed to end all negotiations as any prospective buyers are either priced out or too financially conscious to allow themselves to be robbed of their money. They may leave immediately, some at least enjoy the rest of their nighttime but eventually depart. Once, an embarrassingly drunk lord became aggressive and raised a hand at Lynette, but that was all that was needed to legally justify Arlecchino toppling him and pointing a blade to him until she could throw him out the door. Regardless of what happens, no purchases will be made and the twins will return to their standard routine as always.

Arlecchino writes the flat price of Lyney on a paper, then turns it to Wriothesley. “This is the exact amount that is left on Lyney’s contract.”

Wriothesley eyes the paper and bites the inside of his cheek. “Huh. Higher than I anticipated, but this shouldn’t be an issue.”

Lyney looks up at Wriothesley with his usual complacent smile that he puts on to disarm them. No attempts at bargaining. Perhaps he’s aware of how futile it is to try with Arlecchino. Still, he’s admitted to the cost being more than he initially assumed. Lyney waits with anticipation for the moment he can watch as even a noble is denied what they want. Their egregious sense of entitlement crashes head on with their better judgement, their pride refusing to allow the house to hollow out their reserves of silver. The courtesan’s soft, manicured hand gently glides over the skin of Wriotheley’s chest just peeking through from the gap of his robes, noting the texture of the scars under his palms. Despite his callous feelings towards the man, he must maintain his perfectly crafted person until he’s taken his leave.

”There is another condition,” Arlecchino says as she begins the second half of negotiations. Lyney rests his head on Wrio’s shoulder, clinging to his arm as the anticipation builds. Father continues by writing a multiplier of two next to the number, and then a total cost. “The twins’ contracts are tied together, and thus they must be bought off together, regardless of whether or not you intend to make consorts of both.”

Lyney can feel the deep and heavy breath Wriothesley draws into his lungs, then slowly releases. “I see.”  He contemplates for a few moments, rolling his head side to side on his shoulders.

Lyney spares another glance to his sister, then to Father. He can hardly wait to see what kind of reaction a man of his status will have to being shot down.

“I accept these terms, though I didn’t come prepared with this much today. If you would hold their contracts and give me a week to make a round trip,” Wriothesley suddenly feels Lyney tense around his arm as he speaks.

He agrees? Is he stupid? A man like him can’t possibly think it wise to spend such an exorbitant amount of money on prostitutes, and yet a case of gold ingots are brought into the room as proof of Wriothesley’s sincerity. It’s enough to pay half their contracts up front, with a promise to bring the other half in a week.

Lyney can feel his stomach begin to tie in knots and his heart can’t seem to find its rhythm. This can’t happen. Not when he’s closer than he’s ever been to buying his sister’s freedom.

“You can’t be serious,” he blurts out, bringing everyone’s focus onto him and earning a raised brow from the Duke.

“Is there a problem, Lyney?” Wrio asks, more curious than insulted.

Lyney tries to gather himself with a playful laugh, but his mask is already cracked. “Pardon me, it’s just that even I know my Father set such an unfair price to keep us working for her forever. You’re a smart man, Wriothesley, so I’m in disbelief of your eagerness to allow yourself to be cheated.”

Arlecchino’s slow blink at Lyney is all he needs to know he’s treading on thin ice.

Lynette shifts forward to look at her brother, a pitiful sigh passing her lips. “Duke Wriothesley is considered wealthy even among nobles. I’m sure he has more money than he knows what to do with,” she says, unamused rather than impressed.

Lyney knows he’s wealthy, and he knows aristocrats wipe their own asses with money. They trade flesh like animal pelts, torn off helpless creatures just to touch and pet at their leisure.

For Lynette to speak so plainly, she must be unsettled as well. It’s risky to take such a tone with a man of his rank.

Wrio overlooks it. “Would you believe I’m here looking for someone to share it with?”

Lyney scoffs. “Share? As one shares their wealth with a pet, maybe.”

Arlecchino’s gaze burns into Lyney. He doesn’t have to look at her to know. He clears his throat, and casts his eyes to the ground. “Forgive me. I let my thoughts escape me.”

Wrio chuckles softly through his nose. “So this is when we speak honestly, eh?”

“I’m afraid I might have spoiled my children here in this house, as they’ve seemed to have grown too comfortable at work,” Arlecchino continues. “Please, excuse them. Surely they’re feeling nervous about leaving the nest and only need a moment to collect themselves.”

Lyney is seething, but he can’t show it. Not in front of Father, or he might find himself in a much greater deal of trouble.

Arle has quite the shining reputation when it comes to the quality of her products. Lyney and Lynette may be the stars of her brothel, but truly none of her children are anything to turn your nose at. A variety of perfectly crafted dolls to cater to any hedonist. That reputation is much more valuable than money, to her. Even without the threat of punishment, Lyney can’t bear the thought of tarnishing that reputation after everything she’s done for the two of them, and so he falls in line.

Wrio notes the change in atmosphere, then reflects on it for a moment. “It’s no issue, truly. This certainly poses as a very large shift in their lives. I understand the emotional impact and how it could manifest.”

Arle nods her head. “Your patience is truly appreciated.”

Wrio waves a hand dismissively. “No need for empty words in the name of etiquette. I’m happy with the terms we’ve set so far, but might I request more time alone with them before finalizing our deal?”

Arlecchino stands, bows, and takes her leave.

The room is tense, and Wriothesley sorts through his mind for the best way to move things along.

“Lyney, Lynette, might I inquire about your disapproval of this arrangement?”

Neither of them speaks, but Lyney’s brow furrows. Wrio takes a deep breath, then tries again. “I’d prefer to discuss this as fairly as possible. There’s no need to continue treating me as a client. Make yourselves comfortable.”

Lyney doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly lets go of the duke’s arm, scooting away and pulling his robes tighter around his body. Lynette is more casual in her movements, but crawls over to sit next to her brother.

Once everyone has settled into their spots, Wriothesley addresses them again. “Allow me to be transparent with you. I have no heir, nor any current arrangement that could provide me with one. That said, I have no interest in keeping slaves or otherwise forcing myself upon anyone. I find it lowly and an indicator of weakness.” His tone is that of a businessman's, professional and concise. “Lyney, as I’m sure is evident by my proposal, I’d like for you to provide me an heir. I only need one consort, and so I do not need to ask the same of Lynette, unless you’d rather trade places. I assume you two are close, so I imagine it would be unnecessarily cruel to part you two.” Wriothesley looks between the two of them as he speaks, being sure to make Lynette feel included in the conversation while not addressing her directly. “If you agree, I can promise a life of comfort for the both of you.”

Lyney’s face twitches as he bites his tongue. “How benevolent of you.”

Wrio watches with interest as Lyney shows a completely different side of himself as opposed to just a few minutes earlier. “I’d like to think so. I’d assume it’d be much better than staying here, no?”

Lyney inhales sharply. “You know nothing of our life here.”

Lynette disengages from the conversation, reaching for her lukewarm cup of tea.

“I know you’re prostitutes in a brothel, and clearly not getting out of here by your own means considering just how hefty your contracts are. I’d like to offer you a real opportunity for something different.”

“Do you find something wrong with how we make a living?”

“No, but I know you do.”

Something about Wrio’s confidence adds fuel to Lyney’s fire. “Blind assumptions only ever bring ruin.”

“Then it’s good I don’t have to assume you’re doing everything in your power to earn enough to buy your own contracts and leave here with your sister,” Wrio says, his own tea in hand. Lyney pauses, and that’s all Wriothesley needs to know for certain he’s right. “You’re very experienced in hustling your clients out of as much money as possible, and I’m sure hardly any of them notice.“

Lyney huffs. “I want the most pay for my work like anyone else.”

“Being sold as a set was your idea, right, Lyney?” Another pause to confirm. “You have a tendency to put yourself between clients and your sister. You happily take on more than your share so that you can keep her from being burdened by it as much as possible. I have people I care very deeply about as well. I’d do the same.”

Lynette sets down her cup, tuning herself back in. “Why not seek out a bride from other nobles? Why courtesans?”

Wriothesley hums. “I don’t want to involve myself in unnecessary politics, nor romance. I simply want to raise a child and be done with it.”

“Why go through the trouble of buying both of our contracts?” Lyney asks, trying to make sense of it all. “There are plenty in this house who would do just as well with less hassle.”

He’s met with a shrug from the duke. “I have an eye for quality, and I can afford it, so why wouldn’t I?”

There’s a short silence as everyone retreats into their own trains of thought.

Lyney sucks on his teeth, eyes boring holes into Wriothesley’s skull. Wrio could have just finished the deal with Arle, packed everything up, and come back to collect the two of them in just a few days without any need for this private conversation. Something about it all is infuriating that Lyney can’t place. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“You can decline, if you’d like,” Wrio offers. “I was hoping this could be enough to persuade you, but like I said, I’m not interested in unwilling partners.”

Lyney decides he’s heard enough. He suddenly moves to gather his clothes, and hurries out of the room.

Lynette sips her tea again, then scrunches her nose. It’s just not the same when its cooled.

Lyney recklessly dresses himself in his robes, roughing up a few of the delicate seams. Does this Duke think of himself as some kind of hero? As if he is swooping in to save a pair of helpless kids. Like he’s better than any other sleazy old man buying prostitutes just because he wants to promise them a “better life?” He doesn’t need pity. Certainly not from a man like that.

Lyney paces back and forth, waiting for his temper to settle. He’s already done enough to damn himself, whether it be the rage of a powerful Duke, or the disappointment of his Father. He mumbles for a while, fixes himself up, then makes his way back towards the entertaining room.

“That can be arranged,” Wriothesley’s muffled voice can be heard from the other side.

“I see… that doesn’t sound so bad,” Lynette responds casually.

The man laughs. “You’re much easier to please.”

Lyney’s heart sinks. He’s trying to bargain with his sister? Worse, she’s humoring him?

The boy’s body moves before his thoughts can catch up. He hurries into the room again, and before he can come up with an excuse, Wriothesley speaks up.

“Ah, Lyney. I was beginning to worry you’d lock yourself away until I left.”

Well he had certainly considered it, at least.

He looks between the duke and his sister, carefully sorting through his words for the next thing to say. “I needed a moment to myself to gather my thoughts. Again, I hope you can forgive me. This is all just a lot to take in at once, and I suppose I’m scared.”

Wrio gestures with his hand for Lyney to take a seat. “I can see how it would be overwhelming.”

Lyney carefully sits, posture straight and formal. “So many turn away when they learn we come as a set, I had foolishly begun to believe we’d stay here until we’ve paid off ourselves.”

Wrio scans Lyney over, evaluating him. The sentiment is honest, but he’s still trying to conceal his anger. Whether he’s doing it out of a sense of obligation to Arlecchino or out of fear, he’s unsure. Either way, Wrio thinks he knows how to sway him.

“Lyney, I hope that you can at least seriously consider my offer. With no disrespect to Lynette, I’ve gathered that you hold more qualities that I seek in my partner than your sister does. The condition is that I buy you together, not that I need to marry you both.”

He can see the thoughts swirling behind Lyney’s eyes.

“You’re equal in beauty and talent, but I believe that your individual characteristics are better suited.” He omits that he can see Lynette being more likely to use tricks to avoid her formal responsibilities as a consort. He also omits that Lyney’s strong refusal makes him all the more suited to Wrio’s preference. Someone who won’t get too attached. Someone who would keep everything strictly professional. This is a business deal, after all. A trade of services. Nothing more, nothing less. “If you’re willing to become a true consort, I could take your sister as consort in title only. She would live her life spoiled and unbothered, save for perhaps a few public appearances every so often. Also, you would be welcome to spend time with her at your leisure.”

Lyney bites his cheek. Wrio knows what he wants to hear. He emphasized the treatment of his sister before Lyney’s own responsibilities as consort. He hates how he’s figured out even just that much.

“… How do I know you won’t go back on your word?”

“I’m asking for your trust.”

“My trust doesn’t come freely.”

“Name your price.”

Lyney grits his teeth. This man really is determined to keep him. He can’t think of any other way out of this situation that doesn’t jeopardize Lynette’s livelihood. The reality is that he’s already being granted more than is owed to him by having any say in what happens here at all, and something about that is worse than if he were just forced along. If he has to throw himself into the fire for his sister’s sake, he will. “Rather than buy half of each contract, the money you’ve brought today, you’ll give my sister. When can return to buy my contract, she will buy her own.”

Lynette’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t speak.

“Done,” Wrio assures.

Lyney slowly nods his head, allowing the reality of his choice to settle. He may not see his freedom, but at least he’s been able to secure his sister’s. “Then I accept.”

Wrio smiles softly. “I appreciate your cooperation. Shall we invite your Father back into the room?”

Lyney watches the sincerity of Wriothesley’s words as a case of gold is first handed to Lynette.

“In this case is enough gold to buy your contract, and then some. This is a gift, meaning it no longer belongs to me and is now yours to use as you see fit,” he says clearly for all in the room to witness.

Lyney should be happy, but his heart aches instead. Lynette then moves the case to Arlecchino’s hands, looking directly at her. “I would like to put forward this gold to buy my own contract in advance. Once Duke Wriothesley has returned to buy Lyney’s contract and fulfilled the stipulation of both contracts being bought together, I will be in ownership of my own person.”

Arlecchino takes the case, then nods to acknowledge. “I accept these conditions.”

Wriothesley covers the tab for himself and his men, says a few parting words, then takes his leave from the brothel.

Lyney spends the next few days contemplating the choice of simply fleeing from the brothel with his sister, but the risks are too great. If the duke himself doesn’t hunt them down, Arlecchino surely would. She would never allow such insolence. Instead, he does his best to take the time and come to terms with what’s about to happen to him. He keeps repeating to himself it’s worth it. His sister’s freedom is well worth the price of his suffering many times over, and if he’s lucky, he’ll get the opportunity to visit with her every so often.

Between his bouts of sulking, Lyney notices Arlecchino checking in on the twins more often than usual, often bringing treats to share. She even invites them to accompany her on a short walk to grab a few supplies for the brothel. The acts themselves are nothing unusual, but the timing and frequency are uncharacteristic of their Father. Lyney takes it as a parting gift, and tries holding the memories of it all closer to his chest.

It’s sooner than later that the duke arrives for the second time, now with the remaining portion of his payment for the twins. Arlecchino, cool and composed as ever, escorts the two courtesans out of the brothel, stopping at the door. She congratulates Lyney on securing himself a position under prestigious nobility, and Lynette on her freedom, wishing luck for them both. It’s a sterile goodbye to any outsider, but to the twins, it’s warm and sincere. They know how to read between the lines when it comes to their Father. Arle has made a point to say her goodbyes to her children before any matters of business with the duke. Strange. Lyney almost gets the impression that she is pained to see them go.

Wriothesley offers Lyney his arm to hold, but Lyney simply ignores it. The duke hums, smiles gently, and returns his arm to his side. His attention turns to address Lynette instead. “You’re welcome to one of my guesthouses until you’ve made new living arrangements.”

“Much appreciated,” Lynette accepts immediately, joining the two of them in the rather luxurious carriage as they set off to the duke’s estate.

There’s very little conversation save for Wriothesley occasionally checking if they have any needs or wants, hoping he can at least help them be comfortable along the way. Responses are curt, but Wrio remains as polite as ever as he offers them travel sized portions of food and tea along the way, and a small poetry book for entertainment.

It’s only a few short hours before they’ve arrived and attending staff are guiding the twins to their rooms. Lyney tries for as long as he can to keep his composure. Over the course of their ride, he expends most of his energy fighting against the towering waves of frenzied emotions crashing against the inner walls of his chest and skull. As he sits on his large bed wrapped in silk, he finds he’s too weakened to continue pretending he’s anything less than miserable.

With a shout, he orders the attending staff out of his room. With only a bow, they obey, quickly leaving Lyney to the privacy of his new quarters to scream, weep, and even throw a porcelain vase to the floor, leaving shattered pieces laying in the puddle of water and fresh roses. Once he’s exhausted the last of his energy, he settles on the floor at the foot of his bed, curled into himself. Defeated, he can only stare off at nothing, running through every possible decision he could have made throughout his life that could have saved him from this.

He’s not sure how much time passes, nor does he remember falling asleep, but he wakes to the sound of his door opening. He gasps and attempts to crawl away from the direction of his visitor, but doesn’t get far before he recognizes his sister welcoming herself in.

She’s dressed in new, elaborate robes, and her hair hangs loose over her shoulder.

“You have one of the best beds money can buy, and yet you choose the cold floor,” she comments, her voice monotone as usual despite her teasing.

Lyney rolls his eyes. “Spare me.”

Lynette eyes the mess on the floor, carefully steps around it, then takes a seat beside her brother. “He kindly asked if I would come check on you.”

“You needed him to ask?”

“I would’ve come if he forbade me, but I think it’s meaningful that he personally asked me rather than his staff.”

“He must known I would’ve thrown out anyone else.”

“Now that you’re familiar with the floor, maybe you could consider laying in your bed.”

“I’d rather sleep in a trench than in any lavish bed he has to offer,” he hisses.

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to tire me.”

“Soon enough you won’t need to bear it ever again,”

Lynette raises her brows. “You truly expect me to live without you?”

“I negotiated for your freedom. Take it.”

“Maybe I’d thank you if you hadn’t done so by using yourself as a bargaining chip.”

“If I hadn’t, we’d still be under our contracts. At least this way, one of us can have control of our lives.”

“If I recall correctly, you never once asked for my opinion on the arrangement he offered, nor the compromise you put forward. You had the chance to offer me some control then, and you stripped me of it.”

“A means to an end. Forgive me.”

“To what end, Lyney? For you to rot away surrounded in gold and silk, clinging to some fantasy of me becoming a self-made woman? Your concern over me is short sighted. It is not in my best interest, but your comfort. I won’t reward nor vindicate your acts of self-loathing.”

Lyney blinks, lips parting but at a loss for words.

Lynette lets Lyney sit in his own stupor, her expression changing ever so slightly with her rage. “I intend on living here, by the way.”

Lyney’s eyes widen as words seem to rush forward, stammering as he attempts to sort them into a sentence. “What!? But Lynette—!”

“As a consort, no less,” she adds, shoving salt to the wound to make a point.

Lyney feels like he could faint. “You can’t!”

“You’ve already made your choice. Now, as a free woman unbound by any indenture, I’ve made my choice. I only need speak with the Duke and finalize it.”

His soul is crushed. All of his hard work and sacrifice, gone.

“Have you gone mad?”

“Have you?” Lynette returns. “A life with no expectations and all the culinary delicacies I could ask for? And you would deny me that? It’s rather cruel of you.”

Lyney groans. “It’s all talk! Who would anyone let another person live such a life for nothing in return?”

“Then perhaps I could ask him to have us swap places instead?”

“And you’d birth his child?”

“Oh, absolutely not, but you could flee the country before he catches on.”

“I’m not going anywhere if the cost is for you to suffer.”

“Ah, so it’s only okay for you to be self-sacrificial. I see.”

Lyney’s face scrunches into a soft pout, to which Lynette responds with a small hum.

“Anyway,” she continues, “I actually think he meant what he said.”

“About what?”

“All of it. I overheard a few ladies in waiting talking about him. He’s very highly regarded for his character, it seems.”

“Of course no one will criticize him if they value their lives.”

“It was more than just standard praise. They truly admire him.”

Lyney slumps, curling into himself tighter. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

Lynette watches her brother sulk for a few moments before deciding to change her course. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

After some convincing, Lyney allows staff to enter his room to clean.

It’s another small battle to get Lyney to lay in his bed, but he eventually settles. Lynette stays the night in his room, giving her brother at least some semblance of peace.

Lyney wakes the next day expecting to be put through another whirlwind of changes and orientation, but nothing comes. Nothing beyond his assigned lady in waiting asking for his preference in food, decor, and fashion. She’s gentle and attentive, showing concern without pity. Her emphasis on his health was strange before he learned she’s primarily a doctor. She’s the only one on Wriothesley’s estate with but a few apprentices, but has offered to stand in temporarily.

The day passes without so much as a message from Wriothesley. The same happens the next day. A feeling grows in him, though he’s unsure if it’s curiosity or dread. Lyney hesitantly asks about him during dinner on his third night. Sigewinne only offers a vague “he’s busy.”

Busy with what? Why is he leaving Lyney in the dark? The first glimpse he gets of the Duke after arriving in this god forsaken place was in passing, and only for a moment from the other side of the courtyard. He considered confronting him then and there, but decided against it.

He meets with his sister regularly, but they typically avoid talking about the Duke as much as possible. It takes a struggle with his own pride for Lyney to finally breach the subject on the fourth night.

“Have you heard from Wriothesley?”

Lynette feigns confusion with a tilt of her head. “Who?”

Lyney presses his fingers to his temple and closes his eyes tightly. “Don’t.”

Once she’s finished savoring her bite of cake, she speaks again. “Yes. We’ve spoken almost every day.”

Lyney sets down his cutlery and simply sits with his face in his hands for a moment. Once he’s gathered himself, he continues. “About what?”

“A number of things. Mostly tea and pastries. My preferences, his recommendations, my opinions on the ones he’s introduced me too. Second to that, we talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“He always asks about how you’re settling in, and thanks me for my help.”

“What help?” He asks skeptically.

“Something about my presence being important for your wellbeing and aiding in you settling in here. He usually gifts me small treats after thanking me. I’m having a wonderful time here.”

She is incredibly easy to please. Lyney huffs, then continues eating. “… I see.”

So Wrio is only ignoring Lyney, but why? It’s not that Wrio has forgotten about him, and he’s clearly not so busy that he can’t make an appearance if he’s making time to check in with Lynette.

Everything this man does infuriates Lyney to no end and it’s been less than a month since they’ve met.

Another three days pass before Lyney decides that confronting Wriothesley is worthwhile, actually. He needs answers. He asks Sigewinne to pass along his request to meet with the duke as soon as possible, which is quickly accepted.

Within the hour, Lyney is sat across from his fiancé with a pot of tea. “You wanted to see me?” Wrio begins.

“Did you make all that fuss in the brothel trying to persuade me to come here to be some kind of palace ornament?”

Wrio shakes his head. “No. I’m in sincere need of an heir.”

“Then explain why you haven’t so much as looked at me since my arrival to this place.”

“I had assumed my presence would only be distressing, and I’d like for you to have time to adjust to your new life here.”

He’s right, of course, but Lyney isn’t satisfied yet. “And so it was better to have me waiting in anticipation for when I’d be called to my duties?”

Wrio clicks his tongue. “I see. I hadn’t considered keeping distance would also bring you distress. My sincerest apologies.”

Lyney frowns. “I don’t need your apologies, I need to know what you plan to do with me.”

Wriothesley leisurely sips his tea. “I’d be happy to.” He sets the tea aside and fixes his posture. “I was going to wait until you’ve grown more comfortable in your daily routine to bring up the topic of our wedding. As it is also an important day for you, I thought you might appreciate helping me plan out the details.”

Their wedding. Just the idea leaves Lyney feeling unwell. “Must we go through the trouble of a wedding ceremony?”

“I don’t care for the tradition either, but it’s more so about your formal introduction to nobility. A first impression, if you will.”

“So plan it yourself.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I think I misheard you earlier. I thought you had asked me to include you in discussions about topics you’re involved in,” Wrio says with a stern frown.

Lyney frowns in kind. “I want you to stop going to my sister for answers about me. I want you to come to me directly and tell me what’s going to happen, then get on with it. I want you to stop making assumptions about what I want, and just do what you paid all that silver and gold to do. You called this a matter of business, so keep this professional and efficient,” Lyney snaps.

Wrio’s brows raise in a subtle surprise before giving Lyney a once over with his eyes. “If you insist.”

Immediately Lyney catches something in his tone. “Whatever you’re plotting to try and have me regret not choosing my words wisely, you can save it.”

Wriothesley accidentally lets his mouth curl into a smirk. “Was I so obvious?”

Arsenic might do well in the duke’s tea, Lyney thinks.

Wrio clears his throat. “I had only thought to leave Sigewinne to choose your meals for you. They’re incredibly nutritious and would do you well to eat, but they are an… acquired taste. I 

wasn’t plotting anything horribly nefarious.”

Unamused, Lyney scowls.

“Back to the wedding,” Wrio pivots, “in my conversations with Lynette, she’s mentioned several times that you both enjoy seafood. I was going to suggest fish to be served as a primary food at the wedding.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect. Fried fish, roasted chicken, and I was thinking a table of—“

“Fried?” Lyney interjects.

Wrio pauses. “Yes. That’s how Lynette enjoys hers. Is that not the same for you?”

Lyney casts his gaze away from Wriothesley, weighing his options to reply. “Fried dishes tend to upset my stomach.”

Wrio hums and slowly nods his head in understanding. “No good, then. I’ll revise my drafted menu. Are you sure you don’t want to help decide?”

“Just keep it light.”

 “And as for flowers?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.”

Wriothesley sighs. Seems his fiancé is keen on being as difficult as possible. That’s fine. There’s something endearing about the way Lyney hisses at him.

Initially, Wrio only thought his attitude to be assurance that he won’t need to worry about any complications with romance, but now he just finds something entertaining about the way Lyney writhes and snips. It’s not as though he’s simply an entitled brat, either, or else it would only be a nuisance. He cares deeply for others, putting their needs before his own. He believes in forging his life through blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice rather than having everything handed to him. He’s wary of others, but not unreasonable. It’s everything Wrio needs in a coparent, but also dangerously tempts the mischievous side of him.

“I believe we are going to be wed, and I’m either going to get answers from you, or I’ll enlist your sister’s help again through the next few weeks to plan your wedding in addition to planning her own.”

Lyney narrows his eyes. “Her own?”

“A much simpler one, yes, for formality sake.”

The idea of Lynette being married to this man. He prays he meant what he said by giving her no obligations. If they’re lucky, he’ll look the other way if his sister grows fond of a lady in waiting.

“There’s no need to bother her with trivial things.”

“Then you’ll help me?”

“If it means you’ll stop talking to my sister.”

“About you, yes. Entirely, no. I’ve grown quite fond of her after our more casual conversations.” He sips his tea again, but maintains eye contact with Lyney, who scrunches his nose.

“She only cares about your money.”

“I’m aware, and I’m happy to keep providing her with all the expensive food and bedding she desires in exchange for her company and continued assistance in supporting you.”

The end of Wrio’s sentence knits Lyney’s brows together. “You’re bribing her to sway me to be more compliant.”

“You can look at it that way. We agreed that I would grant her consort privileges without the responsibility of child rearing or sexual fidelity so long as she provides you support however is needed. Something like a glorified lady in waiting with extra benefits.”

Lyney wants to be angry. He wants to make Wrio play the villain in his story. The man who stole Lyney’s freedom out of greed and self-interest and used his own sister against him, but he finds it harder and harder to hold onto his convictions. Still, he won’t drop his guard until the deal they’ve made has been fulfilled and the twins are free to live their lives as they please. The moment Wriothesley goes back on his word, he’s escaping out of here with his sister by whatever means necessary. He refuses to let history repeat itself.

Lyney reluctantly agrees to help with wedding plans, and Wriothesley seems pleased enough. He invites Lyney to finish the pot of tea with him, but he quickly declines and dismisses himself from their meeting.

Lyney doesn’t hear from Wrio again for several days, though gifts keep being delivered to his room from an “anonymous” source. Different varieties of flowers arranged masterfully in large bouquets, foreign fruits and exotic meats all expertly prepared, and fine jewelry made of different metals and brilliant jewels that are blinding in daylight. It’s not as though he’s unused to receiving gifts, but gifts of this value. Did Wrio intend on buying his heart? Hardly any thought had been put into these. What a tasteless flaunt of wealth. Out of all the gifts received, Lyney only likes a small handful, anyway. The others were turned away to be disposed of.

Three weeks of “anonymous” gifts, but not a word from the duke. Lyney’s small collection of gifts he keeps has grown, but not nearly as much as his discard pile. Sigewinne always collects Lyney’s scraps, being sure to confirm his distaste for them before carrying them out of his room.

Lynette admits to continuing her visits with Wrio, though she denies any discussion about Lyney. They mostly discuss tea and music and their own plans for their smaller wedding.

Just as Lyney’s beginning to wonder if Wrio still intends to marry him by the end of the month, he’s summoned to meet with the duke again. He’s escorted to a small room where Wrio is already waiting, his favorite tea set brewing something herbal that fills the air with a pleasant scent.

“Good morning,” he greets, polite smile stretching his lips.

“Good morning,” Lyney says plainly, taking his seat.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the date for our wedding is fast approaching.”

Lyney lets a soft, chiding giggle escape through his nose. “I almost thought you had forgotten.”

Wriothesley chuckles in return. “How could I? I’ve been busy with all of the preparations.”

“So much for wanting my input, then,” Lyney mumbles just loud enough to be heard.

“You’ve given me plenty of input, actually.”

It wouldn’t be a meeting with Wrio if Lyney didn’t have to suffer through some vague set up to a dull punchline only the duke finds funny. Lyney doesn’t humor him, only stares with the most dissatisfied expression he can muster.

Wrio laughs anyway. “Alright, alright.” He pulls a small paper from a pocket, unfolding it and laying it down on the table. “I thought it’d be interesting to understand your taste through trial and error. The gifts. I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that I’ve been sending them.”

“I had my suspicions the first night and knew for certain by the second.”

“And I’m sure you’ve gathered that Sigewinne had been keeping track of your impression of each gift.”

“Yes, I had my suspicions about that as well.”

“Did you notice her keeping time of what hours you most enjoyed being outside? Or that she even made note of the temperature and humidity?”

That comes as a small surprise to Lyney, and it must show considering Wrio’s satisfied smile.

“I’ve also hired musicians to play in the courtyard in the afternoons since our last discussion and had her note which performances you enjoyed the most. I wouldn’t have expected you to know that was abnormal, though, since it’s been routine for most of your time here.”

Lyney hums in thought. “I just took you for the type of person to waste money on music only to listen to it passively.” It’s almost impressive the lengths he went through to sort through Lyney’s preferences, but it’s more unsettling coming from him.

Lyney looks down at the paper. It’s a comprehensive list of Sigewinne’s findings, ordered from most to least favorite.

“I’m confident in my findings,” Wrio states before bringing his teacup to his lips.

Lyney reads through with a critical eye, noting the small section dedicated to flowers. He taps his finger over the written text. “This is wrong.”

Wrio raises his brows. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

“The order of preference is correct, but I’m fond of none of these in particular.”

Wriothesley leans forward to hover over the paper and read its contents. “Really? Apparently you lingered around the orchids for a good while.”

“Only observing their peculiar shape. They’re interesting, but not anything I’d consider for a wedding.”

“And the others?”

“Mundane.”

Wriothesley hums, sucking on his teeth. “I hadn’t taken you for the type to be so particular in this category. What would you have instead, then?”

Lyney sighs, rolling his head on his shoulder to loosen his neck, fidgeting as he sorts through his thoughts. “There’s a breed of rose I’ve only seen bloom in the southwestern parts of the country. It’s fragrant without being offensive to the nose, and it shifts in color throughout its season. Unfortunately it’d be impossible to get them here before they wilt unless you took the time to cultivate them yourself. Even if you could, the blooms aren’t in my favorite hue yet.” There’s a hint of longing in Lyney’s voice.

He pushes the paper back toward Wriothesley, dragging his finger down to where it notes peonies. “These are acceptable, and maybe pink azaleas. Pink, not magenta.”

Wrio keeps his eyes on Lyney as he talks, slowly nodding and pocketing the paper. “Particular was an understatement.”

“I just have refined taste.”

“That’s good. Befitting of a nobleman’s consort.”

“Should I be flattered?”

Wrio doesn’t answer, but tips his head in thought before speaking again. “You’re from there, aren’t you?”

Lyney delicately takes an empty teacup in his hand. “Where?”

“The southwest, where those roses grow. You speak of them like reminiscing about an old friend.”

Perhaps he had been too passionate in his description. “… Only for a few years. I was still young when I moved to this region of the country.”

Wrio nods slowly. He does his best to withhold any expression of excitement, as this has been the most personal conversation with Lyney they’ve held yet. A good sign he’s becoming more comfortable in his new home. “Is the scent distinct from other roses?”

“Maybe not to most people, but there was one just outside the home I was staying in. I think I could recognize it, even now.”

“If I ever find business in that area, I’ll have you point them out to me.”

Lyney blinks. “You’d have me travel with you?”

“Is that so surprising? It’s not as though it’d be too much of a hassle to pack for another person.”

In a moment of weakness, Lyney’s imagination escapes him, dreaming of their ventures with a soft smile threatening to shift the corners of his lips.

Wriothesley takes his pause as the opportunity to pour tea into Lyney’s cup. “An imported blend. I expect your honest opinion.”

Lyney watches, not thanking him, but earnestly inspecting the contents of his cup. He sniffs, then brings it to his lips, experiencing it fully. “Earthy, but still light. Almost soothing. Sweetened with honey?”

“No, but it almost tastes that way, doesn’t it?” Wrio takes a sip of his own, closing his eyes to thoroughly enjoy it.

“It’s good.”

“Refined taste, indeed,” he compliments with a laugh. “Rooibos. A tea from Natlan.”

Lyney takes another sip, and it’s quiet between them for just long enough that it's almost as if he’s found a way to tolerate Wrio’s presence.

It’s short lived, though, as Lyney places his half-empty cup on the table. “So is there anything else you wanted to discuss, or did you only want to boast about how successful your stalking endeavor has been?”

Wrio hums through his mouthful of tea before quickly swallowing to answer. “I’m very interested in watching you and your sister perform more tricks like the illusions at the brothel.”

“Then you should’ve mentioned that when we made our business agreement. That’s a different kind of labor with a different tab.”

“Truly a lack of foresight on my end. I’ll reward you both handsomely.”

“Anything else?”

“Over the next few days, you’ll be measured and asked to choose which fabrics and accessories will be used in your wedding attire. Unless you have any questions, you’re dismissed.”

Lyney takes his leave, and spends the rest of his day more vigilant of what he’s doing and who is observing. He’s particularly wary of Sigewinne, who doesn’t seem at all bothered by the change.

As Wrio said, Lyney is visited by a seamstress who has prepared multiple garments. She’s assertive and domineering, but patient and willing to listen to any of his requests. Lyney tries them, gives his opinions, adjustments are made, and the cycle repeats until he’s satisfied with the details of his appearance. Everything is then carefully stored away to preserve it for the day of.

In the meantime, Wrio is diligently coordinating everything for the grand event and any other official business has taken lower priority. He’s fitted for his own wedding clothes, checking in with his vendors, and following up with everyone on the guest list. This marriage is nothing but a business deal, but Wriothesley can’t help but feel a bit excited about all of it. Maybe it was just satisfying to see everything come together, but he finds himself hoping for Lyney’s approval with each detail he sets in place.

Despite the day growing ever nearer, Lyney did not feel particularly strongly about it. Not until the morning of, when he’s caught in a torrent of preparations. He’s practically being dragged by the hand all around the palace. He’s thankful that Lynette is close at his side the entire time, possibly saving him from collapsing under the sudden overwhelming pressure he feels. It’s much easier for him to just submit to being whipped around, passed from one set of skilled hands to another, unable to fully grasp what’s about to happen to him.

Married. Legally, in front of several esteemed individuals with great power and influence.

Lynette’s attempts at soothing him are soured by the knowledge that she’s practically been recruited to do so, but he can’t bring himself to deny his sister. Not ever, but especially not now, otherwise surrounded by strangers. She’s his only light through this.

As ladies in waiting go about their finishing touches, Sigewinne comes to deliver another gift. A small, ornate box. Lyney opens the lid to find a  small note. “May this strengthen your resolve.” Underneath it, a small sachet. Lyney carefully takes it into his hand, turning it over and finding nothing worth any note.

He raises it closer to his face, and only as it rests only a breath away does the scent kiss his nose. Roses. The kind that bloomed in front of Cesar’s home. He can practically hear the man’s voice again, complimenting the scent himself.

Lyney presses his lips together firmly, swallowing the growing ache in his throat. He fixates on the sachet, letting it waft to his nose over and over, disregarding the hands attempting to perfect his hair and makeup. Cesar has come to congratulate him as well.

Lynette peers over his shoulder, somewhat surprised to see him visibly moved by the gift. “What is it?” She asks quietly.

Lyney only holds the sachet out to her in response. She cautiously sniffs, and Lyney watches her eyes light up. They share a knowing glance, then she nods. She helps tuck it into his clothes, hidden from view but resting against his shoulder so that every so often a breeze will catch it and remind him.

It’s not long after that Lyney finds himself being led through the palace, heading towards the sound of tranquil music.

As the main courtyard comes into view, Lyney is intimidated by the crowd of nobles, many of whom he only knows by name rather than face. He immediately recognizes the empress herself, sitting high above the others alongside her high priest as if overseeing it all.

He only hopes his carefully crafted persona doesn’t falter, at least long enough until he’s out of view.

The ceremony goes smoothly, though there’s an unease in Lyney’s stomach as he runs through rehearsed lines, committing himself to a man he’s… unsure about.

Wriothesley’s expression is stoic. It’s natural on him, though Lyney has grown used to his patronizing smiles. Gifts are exchanged, documents finalized, and the two are officially recognized as married. It’s rather anticlimactic compared to the dread Lyney felt in the brothel.

Lyney hesitantly joins the festivities. The meals prepared are delicious. He makes note of the food, the flowers, the music, and all that Lyney had inadvertently helped plan. All things considered, Wrio’s idea had worked. Lyney’s satisfied with the atmosphere, and maybe even having fun.

Wrio had managed to convince the twins to perform for their guests, but not without promising to give them each a pet cat to keep as companions.

Performing for the empress is anxiety inducing enough to send anyone with a weaker heart than Lyney into comatose. The two start simple, making small objects disappear and reappear, earning quiet applause. They eventually fall into a familiar rhythm, their personas and gestures coming to them like second nature.

Lyney takes a deep breath, steeling himself for his last trick. With permission, he approaches the empress. The heavy gaze of her guard, hand on sword, only electrifies Lyney’s nerves further, but he pushes through. Gently, he places a small, green bud in her hand. He covers it with a small cloth, then invites the empress to remove it.

As the cloth is pulled, a lily in full bloom appears in place of the bud. She laughs openly, amazed by the trick. Lyney holds up a finger, alluding to more. He takes the lily from her hand, holds it up for all to see, then presses it between his hands. As he opens them again, a side comb made of silver, fashioned into the shape of a lily, and adorned with small jewels rests in his palms. He offers it to the empress as a gift, and she cheers with grand applause. The rest of their company follows suit, and Lyney can’t help but blush.

Politically, he’s just made an outstanding first impression and given both himself and Wriothesley good favor with the empress. Internally, Lyney finds he quite enjoys performing his illusions for an audience that looks at him with wonder rather than lust.

As more stars become visible in the night sky, the party disperses and the celebrations end. Some nobles are invited to stay, sparing them the need to travel before the next sunrise. When the last of them are tended to, Lyney is directed to his groom. He had gotten so caught in the festivities he had almost forgotten the deal he had made. He’s brought to Wriothesley’s quarters, the man himself waiting at his own door to welcome him.

Wrio looks down at his official consort, noting his mood has shifted significantly since he saw him last. With a small gesture from the duke, the palace staff politely takes their leave, and the newlyweds find themself alone together.

Wriothesley leads the way to a small table. “Tea?”

Lyney accepts, if only just to stall the inevitable.

Wrio pours them each a cup. “You were incredible. Surpassed my expectations.”

Lyney quietly hums a response as he takes his seat.

They share a silence, allowing themselves an opportunity to relax after such an exciting day.

“I hope my research into your interests paid off. Personally, I think everything was perfect. I truly commend your tastes.”

“Wriothesley, I think I’d prefer if we just get this over with,” Lyney says, voice a bit strained.

Wrio raises a brow. “Do you dislike the tea that much? That’s a shame. This is a personal favorite of—“

“No, no, not the tea.” Lyney clears his throat and casts his eyes down. “Consummation. The anticipation is strangling me, and I’d like to return to my room once it’s over.”

Wrio’s mouth slowly warps into an uneven smile before softly laughing. “Oh,  I see. That’s why you’ve suddenly so withdrawn.” He tilts his head, still grinning. “Would you like to?”

Lyney’s eyes shift around the room as if a clue could be found nearby. “What do you mean?”

Wrio shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t planning on consummating tonight as I thought you wouldn’t be interested, but I’m also not opposed to the idea.”

There’s much to be interpreted from Wrio’s statement, but Lyney can’t seem to choose where to begin.

Wrio drums his fingers against his cup, eyeing the man in front of him. Still as pretty as he was at the brothel, or perhaps even more so when he’s dressed like a groom. If Lyney were to express genuine interest in sex, he’d find it impossible to reject him. Wriothesley’s ego, however, far surpasses his sex drive in strength.

He’s only interested in partners he feels as though he’s “won over.” Not just willing, but eager. Pleading, even. He takes more satisfaction in the process of unraveling someone than a short-lived orgasm. He finds no value in force or coercion. Power that’s gained through violence and fear is hollow and cheap. Power that is given through submission and admiration is everlasting, and it’s a high unlike any other. Sweet and euphoric.

Lyney considers his options, then gently shakes his head. “I’d rather not but… will that cause problems?”

Wriothesley lifts his tea cup in a small circular gesture. “It’s just us in this room. As far as anyone else is concerned, we did consummate. I just suggest you sleep here rather than your room.”

Lyney purses his lips.

Wrio notes his hesitance and continues. “Just for the sake of appearances. You’re free to take my bed, and I’ll make an arrangement on the floor for myself if that would give you peace of mind.”

Lyney is still considering, but is noticeably less tense after Wrio’s offer. “If you happen to have a change of clothes…”

Wrio nods, then points to a set of folded linens beside his bed. “Those are for you.”

Lyney hesitantly stands and makes his way to the set of clothes. He’s half expecting to find something sheer and revealing, but is relieved to find a simple set of loungewear. He glances over his shoulder at Wrio, then gnaws on his lip.

“Turn around.”

There’s a pause for Wriothesley’s confusion. “You worked at a brothel before this, no!”

“Are we in a brothel?”

“No, just your husband’s bedroom.”

“Turn around.”

Wrio sighs, but does what’s asked of him. He turns in his seat, back to Lyney as he continues sipping his tea.

Lyney changes, calls for warm water to wash his makeup, and a brush for his hair.

Once the tea is finished, Wriothesley begins to organize a few cushions on the floor.

Once he’s made a nice bed, he begins to undress himself.

Lyney peers at him through the mirror as he continues to brush, but he freezes once he’s processed what he’s seeing.

He noticed the scars during his visit to the brothel. Several along his arms, some on his neck running down his chest. He hadn’t commented on them before and there was never an appropriate time to ask, but now that he can see his naked body in the mirror, he can see he’s absolutely littered in them.

He peels his eyes away to look back at his own flushed face, slowly brushing.

Wrio sits in his pile, finding a comfortable position to lay.

Lyney dares to glance back at him again, then clears his throat. “You’re going to sleep like that?”

Wrio sits up turning his head over. “Yes? Is that a problem?”

Lyney gnaws on his lip. “It’s distasteful.”

“You’re surprisingly prudish for having been a courtesan.”

“Work is different than… well, whatever this is.”

Wriothesley sighs, then pushes himself up. “Fine. I’ll get dressed to sleep in my own room. In my own home. That I invited you to live in. As my spouse.”

“You whine like a child.”

Wrio opens his mouth to respond, but catches Lyney’s annoyed expression in the mirror. Something about that specific face he makes when Wrio is bothering him, he will always find funny. He quietly chuckles, then turns to find something to wear. “Yeah, yeah…”

The night passes without anything else of note. Wrio wakes early, tidies his space on the floor, and brews a pot of tea as always. He sets out two cups, but does not wake the man still peacefully resting in his bed. He enjoys the sounds of birds outside his window as he sips.

Lyney's faced away from him, but his silhouette can be made out from the thin sheets draped over him. Wrio finds he’s glad that Lyney was able to relax enough to fall asleep. While it's good that Lyney is disinterested in him, he was hoping he'd eventually become at least cordial.

Wrio figures that once he's convinced Lyney of his good faith, the rest of their business together will be smooth sailing and efficient. They'll likely be working together for the next few years, after all, so it's best to establish reliability and diplomacy. Lyney gets to enjoy a life of luxury alongside his sister, and Wrio gets to pass his torch to a new generation. A simple and worthwhile plan, Wrio's eyes.

As Lyney turns over in Wrio's bed, the duke finds his gaze lingering on his soft expression. He's cute, Wrio thinks. Something about him is reminiscent of a cat. In particular, a shop cat that lived near Wrio's home. Wrio would always see it napping in the sunlight as he walked by, but he could never get close enough to pet it despite multiple attempts.

He's reminded that he should find a cat breeder to fulfill his promise to the twins. Cats are said to bring luck and prosperity, and some even say they symbolize fertility, so perhaps it benefits him as well to have a few wandering about.

Lyney stirs awake as Wrio pours himself another cup.

It takes even longer for him to be persuaded to peel off the blankets and stand up, but the promise of hot tea and a seat that catches a ray of warm sunlight eventually coaxes him out.

"Are you awake enough to discuss a plan for conceiving our child?" Wrio asks casually.

Lyney nearly chokes on his tea, but keeps himself composed. "Right now?"

"We don't have to right this instant, but I'd like for us to agree on a course of action within the week now that the wedding is done."

Lyney dabs a few drops of tea from the corner of his mouth. "I see."

Wrio smirks. "It's not lost on me that child bearing is an arduous task. I understand if you're feeling reluctant, but this is the most crucial part of our arrangement. I believe it's reasonable that we start discussing the matter as soon as possible."

Lyney nods in agreement. "Yes, I'm aware, but first thing in the morning after our wedding? Have you considered taking a day to recuperate?"

Wrio can't help but laugh. "You know most couples spend their first month or so after their wedding practically fused together in an attempt to conceive."

"Isn't your wedding with Lynette within the month?"

Wrio clicks his tongue. "Touché. A few days to recuperate, then. Thankfully my wedding with her is significantly smaller and easier to plan around, so expect to hear from me about this shortly after."

Lyney breathes a sigh of relief, and the two continue enjoying their tea together.

After a minute or two, Wrio speaks again. "You ignored my attempt to debrief with you last night. Was the wedding to your liking?"

With a small pause to consider, Lyney gently nods his head. "It was."

"I'm glad. The gifts you rejected have been exchanged for silver and are free for you to spend. They're still gifts, after all, but I figure they might be more valuable to you that way."

It's hard to stay bothered by Wrio's constant flaunt of wealth when Lyney feels so spoiled.

"As for the sachet," Wrio continues. "I managed to get in contact with a perfumer from the southwest. It admittedly holds significantly less monetary value than the other gifts, but I thought it to be the best way of bringing your favorite flowers to you on such short notice."

Lyney glances over at the vanity to be sure the sachet is still laying beside the brush and bowl of water, then back at Wrio. "It was a kind gesture. Thank you."

Wrio straightens his posture some, his expression mildly surprised and his cheeks flushing a soft pink.

"Wow. I had come to terms with the idea that I'd never hear those words from you."

"Don't spoil the moment," Lyney scolds, scrunching his nose.

Wrio's smirk stretches into a warm, gentle grin. "You're welcome.