Chapter 1
It's been three weeks since your wedding. A farce really, since you had never so much as seen your blushing bride before the event. The two of you stood in the chapel for the crowd to gawk at; She in an extravagant dress and you in your silks and coats, both looking anywhere but at the creature in front of you.
You hadn't so much as heard her name before you were required to parrot it back to the priest with your vows, and too-soon you exchanged a reluctant kiss and were seated together to watch the festivities unfold. 'In celebration of your union' they had toasted, but you were hardly more than pawns in a game played by those with far deeper coffers than yourself.
The pair you two must have made; staring in opposite directions, both fiddling with rings that felt alien and constricting on your fingers.
But that has passed. Now you find yourself faced with a more pressing matter: consummating your marriage, and your lack of certain necessary equipment to do so.
Of course she doesn't know this. Likewise, you're in no positon to tell her, since the alliance of your two people literally hinges upon your sustained relationship.
While you've managed to avoid the subject thus far through a combination of feigned illness, parties, extended hunts and tours of your lands and an opposing sleep schedule, you are very quickly running out of guests as they return to their own affairs after the festivities; people are also beginning to talk, because while a certain level of reluctance is understandable given your... differences, most would expect you to have at least made an effort in that field.
Though the differences you've found so far are mostly superficial--while your education on Alternian biology showed you that there a a great deal of biological differences between you, she adheres to a human standard of beauty; with her dark hair cut neck-length and styled excellently, her willowy frame and calm demeanor giving her an almost ethereal air that is only exacerbated by the presence of her horns. Her breasts and hips are of middling size, and her meticulous grooming habits leave her with nary a hair out of place any time you encounter her.
The only imperfection you can find in her appearance is that her left horn is mismatched, ending with a barb rather than the curved point of her right, which is rather petty to consider at best.
You don't catch what she's saying while you're entertaining this thought. You're certain the alcohol buzzing through you isn't helping either.
"Hmm?"
"--Am I so repulsive?" She sets her fork back in its place as she stands, her chair scraping against the floor. "Can't you pretend at civility towards me for an evening? Will you not speak to me beyond terse greetings? I know you're avoiding me, and--" She stops, her eyes shimmering in the room's low light with hurt etched into her face.
At a loss for words yourself, she takes your silence as an affirmation. A tic works at her jaw and she stalks out of the room, leaving you sitting alone wondering what had changed the topic so suddenly.
You down your wine and make to follow her.
- - - - - - - - - -
You hate this place.
After storming out from the mealchambers you broke into a run, quickly finding yourself lost after rounding several corners and hallways with swimming eyes. Why must this bother you so much? You knew when you were told of your arrangement that this wouldn't be pleasant.
In the perigrees as the ceremony approached you prepared yourself to be reviled by the humans, or put on display as some sort of domesticated prize of the one you were paired with, but to be shunned completely?
Initially when your new partner made no flushed advances on you after the ceremony, you felt relieved.
That human tradition dictated the freshly wed mate to seal their ceremonial union was barbaric and made you queasy to even consider, moreso when you learned the ages that some human lusii deemed their wards fit for such an act.
You briefly entertained the thought that perhaps this human was simply more sensible before the following weeks had given you only piercing stares and clinical silence.
It hurt more than the harsh words you were expecting.
Taking a moment to stop and wipe your eyes, you try to get your bearings. Unfortunately all of the walls in this manor are the same cold stone, lined with the same thick carpets and dramatic tapestries to unsuccessfully keep out the draft.
It was another thing that you disliked about the building; there was no soul in this place. Everything was cold and empty here, though you suppose that was fitting given it's main occupant.
You're lucky enough to find a servant--a young, dark-haired woman of your kind--exiting one of the rooms and get proper directions to make your way back to the main hall, and then to your chambers.
- - - - - - - - - -
It seems that Kanaya is very quick on her feet. You've been attempting to find her and apologize, but she's nowhere to be found.
After a few more minutes of searching you give up, letting this incident go onto the growing pile of misunderstandings that have been springing up between you of late (not that you've been helping any).
You quash a pang of self-disgust and decide to head to the baths; A soak and chance to relax will help take your mind off of things for now.
- - - - - - - - - -
"GET. OUT." He spits between clenched teeth, turned squarely away from you. The anger in his voice is shocking. After you had time to settle yourself in your chambers, you decided to take a bath to help clear the funk that had fallen over you.
Now you stand outside the doorway to the bath, face bright with shame. To run into him again in such a vulnerable position and to be ordered out like that cut deep.
Before you can continue that line of thought you're tackled bodily into the antechamber (you most certainly did not make a surprised noise resembling a featherbeast). Your first instinct is to lash out at the attacker, and your claws only catch air as you swipe up from your position on the floor.
You continue frantically for a few seconds more before you recognize that someone is speaking.
"--Kanaya! Oh good you've stopped."
Taking a moment to calm yourself you twist to view your would-be attacker, finding Briar (your "husband", using human terms) sitting on your waist, breathing hard and eyeing your hands warily. He was also wearing little more than a towel.
"Get off of me." You see him consider it for a second, before those lavender eyes swivel back to your face.
He swallows, "No, I don't think I will." You gape slightly at the impropriety before he continues, "We need to talk."
"...Must we speak on the floor?" and in so little clothing?
- - - - - - - - - - -
A flush creeps up your neck. You hadn't intended to end up in this position. When you moved to follow her and apologize, you didn't realize she'd stopped outside the door and collided with her back. The two of you fell into a heap, and the following seconds had been a frantic series of swipes from her that you only barely avoided (you file that trait away to avoid later). You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you running off while I'm speaking, and from here it is difficult for me to get up to do the same." This was certainly true with your lags tangled in hers, and you're still berating yourself for doing something so foolish as pulling her aside here to begin with.
"I could simply throw you, you know."
"Yes, but you won't, since you seem the accommodating sort, I don't mean you any harm." Her eyes narrow at you, but she doesn't comment.
Her face becomes a blank mask. "Speak then."
Very well. You take a breath to steel yourself, "To begin with, I must apologize." She has a brief flash of surprise, "It seems I've made a terrible mess of things, which I hope to correct somewhat."
"Foremost, while I have been avoiding you, it isn't for the reason you suspect. I certainly don't believe you unattractive--in fact, should I be so forward, I would say that you are just the opposite."
You can see Kanaya grow immediately uncomfortable. "Then why have you--I mean, you've never made any indication of..."
You cut her off, "That is a rather sensitive issue, and wholly unrelated to you." You can see the hurt at your quick dismissal, "Also, I'm... afraid I've misled you."
"How so?" Her face hardens, eyes guarded and body tense.
You breathe out and pause, trying to find the proper words to explain.
"You're aware this marriage is of great political importance, correct?"
She gives a short nod and you continue, "I was chosen from the various lesser noble houses for this arrangement largely by accident. You see, 'Briar' is a name I use to follow my various... interests, without arousing undue suspicion. It was an alias posed as dame Lalonde's nephew, visiting from his academy studies."
"So you're not--"
"Oh no, I'm still of noble house and blood. When my mother noticed the name on the list of bachelors, she recommended it. No doubt thinking it amusing in her drunken haze."
You can see she doesn't understand, "Then who are you really?"
"My name is Rose Lalonde."
- - - - - - - - - -
Briar--or Rose, apparently--stops talking, giving you a moment to take in what he'd just said. "Rose seems a rather feminine name, if I might say?"
"Quite." You see the slightest quirk of his lip towards a smile before it sinks in that his voice has risen from it's normal husky tone.
Oh.
OH.