Spoils

After their discussion, T’Challa and Erik settled into an easy routine.

T’Challa still insisted on attending all of the council meetings, half-worried that Erik was going to try something violent, but to his relief, all of the meetings revolved around the discussion of the upcoming wedding. Erik was happy to let T’Challa handle the minutiae of such discussions, probably thinking that it was beneath him to worry about such trivial details. He would occasionally ask T’Challa questions after each meeting about particular undercurrents that he had picked up on, and T’Challa would explain these in detail. Erik never took any notes, but he absorbed all the information which T’Challa told him very quickly, and would often incorporate small details which T’Challa had mentioned into future discussions with the same councillor, to their surprise and delight.

Erik’s intelligence and skill at politics was remarkable. T’Challa could see the makings of a great king in him - if only he would reconsider his more extreme methods. T’Challa still did not fully believe that Erik had given up on his original plan.

Still, T'Challa found himself being lulled into a sense of security by their day-to-day routine. Erik was easy to live with. He wasn't imposing or domineering like many other alphas, and he gave T'Challa quite a lot of free rein to do whatever he liked on his own, though T'Challa still chose to accompany Erik around to make sure that Erik wasn't trying to start any trouble. Erik was also usually quite amenable to taking suggestions from T'Challa, especially in council meetings - with one notable exception.

The Merchant Tribe councillor was frowning at T'Challa. "Your Highness, it is customary for the omega bride to wear a wedding dress."

T'Challa bristled. "I'm not wearing a dress."

He was still getting used to his status as an omega. There was a jarring sense of dissonance whenever he looked down at his smaller, slimmer body, and he had to actively hold himself back from contradicting Erik in public or acting in ways which were unbefitting of a well-bred omega. Thankfully, Erik wasn't very particular about his behaviour as long as he wasn't outright insubordinate, for which T'Challa was grateful, but even though he was trying, it was still a struggle for him to fit into his new role.

Such as wearing a dress.

There were mutterings of discontent from the assorted councillors. Even the councillors from tribes which had traditionally been supportive of the Panther tribe looked disapproving.

Erik took all of this in at a glance, then said, "He'll wear it."

"But -"

The glare that Erik shot in his direction was so fierce that T'Challa immediately clamped his mouth shut. Fear spiked within him, followed immediately by annoyance at his body's instinctive reaction - he had nothing to be afraid of from Erik. It wasn't like his mate was going to execute him over his choice of attire.  

Was he?

T'Challa told himself to stop being silly. "Yes, Your Majesty," he murmured to Erik in a suitably deferential tone, casting his eyes downwards. No need to cause a scene in public. He was sure that Erik could be persuaded to see reason later.

Erik sent everyone else out of the room, then turned to T'Challa. T'Challa immediately widened his eyes appealingly at Erik in the way that he knew Erik liked.

Erik visibly held back a sigh. "Go ahead."

"I don't want to, Erik. Plenty of omegas don't wear dresses these days," T'Challa argued. "You've never had a problem with me wearing pants before!"

"Yeah, but that's for informal occasions," Erik said.

"Council meetings are informal occasions?" T'Challa retorted. He had only worn pants so far around Erik, including to council meetings, and Erik had never complained about it.

Erik sighed. "You know what I mean. Besides, what's the big deal? Most omegas wear dresses. And it's only going to be for one day. You can wear whatever you like after that."

"I -" The true reason was difficult for T'Challa to admit or even to put into words. "I'll look silly," he said instead, groping for an excuse.

Erik rolled his eyes. "You'll look great."

T'Challa's heart fluttered at the casual way Erik said it, as if it were just a self-evident truth. He shook that feeling off and tried again, "Erik -"

Erik folded his arms across his chest. "What's the real reason?"

Caught off-guard, T'Challa could only look down at the floor, momentarily at a loss for words. Fragments of disorganised thoughts floated through his mind. He hadn't even thought closely enough about it to form a coherent explanation for it to himself - his objections so far had been based on some sort of instinctive, deeply felt aversion to the idea of wearing a dress.

"T'Challa," Erik prompted.

T'Challa began to explain haltingly, trying to sort his thoughts into words. "It's just - the dress is such a visible symbol of me being an omega, you know? It's going to be obvious to anyone who looks at me. I know everyone already knows about the transformation, but this is - this is different."

T'Challa squirmed internally. The explanation sounded irrational even to himself.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of about being an omega, you know. It's not as if you can help it," Erik said gently.

T'Challa didn't respond. He knew that Erik was right, but it still wasn't something that he could talk himself into believing yet.

Erik looked thoughtful for another moment. Then he said, "A compromise. You'll wear the wedding dress for our entrance and the ceremony itself. You can change out right after that and wear whatever you like during the feast."

It wasn't what T'Challa had hoped to hear, but he knew that Erik also had to balance the demands from his councillors. Still, he couldn't keep the unhappy frown off his face.

"Aww, don't pout," Erik soothed. "It's only going to be for one night. No one will think twice about it. You'll look great."

The thought of wearing a wedding dress still made T'Challa quail internally, but Erik's reassurance did make him feel slightly better.