Post

IC: Royal Engagement

Vasco was lying on his narrow academy bed, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind wander when the knock came. He closed his eyes, stifling a groan. Academy life had a monotonous rhythm—training, study, and mindless tasks—and he’d come to loathe the interruptions.

“Come in,” he called, his voice tinged with the weariness of someone always on edge for bad news.

An officer pushed the door open. “Alduin, a diplomat has arrived from Hedra. He’s waiting to speak with you outside.”

Vasco propped himself up on his elbows, a smirk already playing on his lips. “A diplomat? From dear mother, no doubt. This ought to be good. What’s the crisis now? Another lecture about duty and discipline?”

The officer didn’t react to the comments. “See it for yourself.”

The officer left the room, he returned moments later with the diplomat, a tall man with sharp, angular features and an air of cold authority. His military jacket was immaculate, and he carried himself with the rigid formality Vasco had come to expect from his mother’s inner circle.

The diplomat gave a stiff bow. “Your Highness, I bring instructions from Her Majesty, the Empress Elvira.”

Vasco crossed his arms, leaning casually against the bedpost, a mocking smile already curling his lips. “Ah, Mother. Always so concerned. What is it this time? Has she finally found a reason to drag me back home? Or perhaps some new rule I’ve broken?”

The diplomat’s tone was as cold as his expression. “Her Majesty has arranged your engagement, Your Highness. You are to marry Princess Aloara II, Countess of Ierada-Perma, the youngest daughter of King Harold of Velkisa.”

Vasco’s smirk froze for a moment, then deepened into a bitter grin. “Marriage? To some foreign princess I’ve never even met? How predictable.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “And here I was, thinking I had a few more years of freedom before I was bartered off like a fine piece of silver.”

The diplomat remained stone-faced. “You are to leave for Velkisa tomorrow morning. Her Majesty expects you to be on your best behavior. This union is of great importance, both politically and diplomatically.”

Vasco’s eyes narrowed as he pushed himself off the bedpost. “Best behavior, huh? Well, I’m sure we all have different definitions of ‘best.’ But what if I don’t feel like playing the obedient son? What then?”

The diplomat’s voice grew colder. “This is not a matter of preference, Your Highness. It is a matter of duty. The marriage has been arranged. Your role is to fulfill that duty, without incident. Her Majesty has made it clear that any scandal will not be tolerated.”

Vasco chuckled darkly. “Oh, Mother has always been fond of the word ‘duty’. But what about what I want? I assume that hasn’t crossed anyone’s mind?”

“The stability of the Empire outweighs personal desires, Your Highness,” the diplomat said evenly. “You will meet the Princess. The engagement will proceed as planned.”

Vasco sighed theatrically, running a hand through his hair. “Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Fine. I’ll go. I’ll meet this princess, smile politely, and pretend I’m thrilled about the whole arrangement.”

“Her Majesty also expects you to dress appropriately for the journey. You represent the Imperial family, and the occasion requires the highest standards of appearance and conduct.”

At that, Vasco’s mood lightened, if only slightly. He straightened up and gave a wry smile. “Well, at least I get to escape this dull academy and wear something that doesn’t smell like barracks.”

The diplomat gave a curt nod. “I will make the arrangements for your departure. You are expected to leave tomorrow at dawn.”

Vasco made a mock bow. “Dawn, is it? I suppose I should start packing, then. Tell Mother I’ll be the picture of decorum.” He paused, his eyes flicking down to his gloved hands. “And I assume I’ll need to keep my little habit well hidden. Can’t have the future bride noticing the scars, can we?”

The diplomat didn’t react, but his tone was icy. “Her Majesty would prefer you maintain a presentable appearance at all times, Your Highness. It would be wise to keep the gloves on.”

Vasco let out a frustrated sigh, pulling at the leather gloves that concealed the nervous damage he’d done to his own fingers—an old habit of his that had worsened under stress. “Yes, yes. I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You can tell Mother she has nothing to worry about.”

Without another word, the diplomat turned and left, the door closing softly behind him. Vasco stood in silence for a moment, staring at his reflection in the small mirror on his desk. He adjusted his gloves, tugging at them nervously.

“Married off like a prized stallion to some girl I’ve never even seen,” he muttered to himself. “But at least I’ll get to dress the part.”

He walked over to the wardrobe, pulling out his most lavish attire—the deep velvet coats, the embroidered waistcoats, the fine silk cravats. If he was to be forced into this display of royal obedience, he’d do it on his own terms. He’d look stunning, he’d charm the court of Velkisa, and he’d remind everyone that he was still Don Vasco of Ferragudo, heir to the throne of Hedra.

As he began packing, he caught a glimpse of his fingers again and frowned, pulling the gloves tighter.

“If I’m going to play this game,” he muttered, “I’ll do it my way. But I’m not giving them more than that.”

The next morning, Vasco stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his crisp white shirt and smoothing down his tailored black and gold jacket. The modern cut of the suit clung to him perfectly, an understated but sharp statement of his noble status. His gloved fingers tugged at his cufflinks before he slipped on his sunglasses, giving himself a once-over. He smiled at his reflection, admiring his looks.

As he stepped out of his dorm at the Valis Military Academy, his usual cocky air returned. He was leaving behind the endless lectures and regimental life for something more luxurious, even if it was a setup for a marriage he didn’t want.

Waiting by the sleek, black town car was the diplomat his mother had sent. The man was in his forties, immaculately dressed in a dress suit, his face unreadable. Vasco sauntered over, one eyebrow raised.

“Your Highness, everything is prepared,” the diplomat said, opening the car door with a slight bow.

“Of course it is,” Vasco muttered, climbing inside the car and sliding into the plush leather seat.

As the car hummed along the highway towards the airport, the diplomat cleared his throat. “Your Highness, as you are already aware, Her Majesty the Empress has arranged your visit to Velkisa to meet Princess Aloara, the youngest daughter of King Harold. The marriage is intended to secure an important alliance between Hedra and Velkisa.”

Vasco sighed dramatically, slumping back into his seat. “Right, the Countess of Ierada-Perma. Politics, alliances, all that. As if my life hasn’t become boring enough.”

The diplomat, unfazed by Vasco’s sarcasm, continued, “This is an important arrangement, not only for your future but for the stability of Hedra. Your behavior must reflect that.”

Vasco rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. “I know the drill. Smile, charm them, pretend I care. You sound just like my mother.”

The diplomat pressed on, his tone flat and professional. “King Harold’s court is very formal, and your conduct will reflect on the entire Imperial family. You are expected to make a strong impression.”

Vasco gave him a sideways glance. “And what if I don’t feel like making an impression? What if I don’t care for Velkisa’s little court games or this princess?”

The diplomat didn’t miss a beat. “Then you will still perform your duties, as instructed by Her Majesty.”

“So, what’s this Princess Aloara like?” Vasco asked after a moment of silence.

The diplomat hesitated before replying. “Princess Aloara is known for her grace and intelligence. She has been educated in Hedran, Sovern, and Aravami, she is a bit shy I hear.”

“Poise, intelligence, and shyness,” Vasco muttered with a smirk. “Sounds like she’s the perfect royal puppet. I can hardly wait.”

The diplomat ignored the prince’s derisive tone, his focus remaining on the task at hand until they finally arrived at the airport.

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I was planning something big for my birthday. A huge party with the most eccentric people in Hedra. But I suppose this trip to Velkisa ruins that, doesn’t it?”

“Her Majesty has your best interests at heart, Your Highness,” the diplomat replied evenly.

Vasco huffed, more to himself than to the diplomat. “I’m sure she does.”

He looked down at his hands, still gloved. The scars from his nervous habit were hidden, just as they always were in front of others. He flexed his fingers and sighed. Their plane, after just about a couple of hours, lands on Aerma’s International Airport. They descend from the plane and embark on a black car that takes to the royal palace.