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Chapter Text

When Frenchie had started his little game of pretending to be royalty, he never would have guessed it to get him this far. In fact, it was meant only as an immediate fix to get in with the rich privliged class and con them out of as much of their money as possible. Unfortunately, this had worked a little too well and he was now Viscount of Grimalkin, a small territory in the Fyfadell Kingdom. How was he to know that conning rich people out of their money makes them trust you even more, almost to an obsessive degree? He was in too deep now though, and couldn't back out of the lie lest he face a hanging at the gallows. So along with it he went and along with it he goes.

He'd managed to at least secure himself and his posse apartments in the Governor's palace. Being part of the "upper crust" isn't all decadent parties with hob knobs hob knobbing, though. No, there's quite a lot to it actually. There's arguing over silverware, they can be such dicks about spoons. Then there is discussing the latest fashion trends, and making sure to ridicule anyone not immediately in the know. And finally, of course, the arranged marriages. Frenchie had hoped he would be immune from this, but no such luck. The Grifipan territory needed a husband for their Baron, Rochelle Frere, better known as Roach. Inconveniently, Queen Zheng had chosen Frenchie, asserting her divine wisdom in knowing it was a perfect match despite the two men never having met before.

So here Frenchie was, getting ready for his wedding day with the help of his friends. They had all piled into his apartment in the Governor's palace to help him get ready, though many were just there to hang out more than anything, Frenchie suspected. Which under normal circumstances would be fine, great even. But he was feeling a little emotionally vulnerable today, and no amount of boxing it all up was working for him. His nerves felt frayed, raw, and exposed. He tried not to think about the scratching at the back of his eyeballs, or the way the air in his room felt too thin.

His best mate, Wee John, who had designed his wedding attire, helped Frenchie slip into the long dark red suit coat. Looking at himself in the mirror, Frenchie could not deny it was the most elegant thing he had ever worn in his life. Wee John had spent countless sleepless night embroidering gold nature motifs throughout the jacket and matching vest which gave the whole look an ethereal feel. Wee John fastened all the necessary buttons, and stepped back with a small tsk.

"Bollocks, I'll need to fix that." He sighed, taking a pin out of his wrist pincushion, and busying himself with some of the embroidery that had come undone.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to have a thread loose on this most inauspicious of days." Frenchie sighed, making no effort to hide his dissatisfaction with the scenario.

"Cheer up, Frenchie," Archie said, bringing him a drink. "You'll still have all of us with you and maybe your new husband won't be so bad."

"If he's anything like the rest of these posh fucks we've been scamming he is, plus who has a nickname like 'Roach'?" Frenchie sighed into the mirror, trying but failing to at least be happy with how good he looked.

Wee John hummed in agreement, while Archie grimaced.

"We can always go find the snake cult I grew up with and run away with them." Archie offered.

"Nah, I'll see it out. If it's really bad, if he's really bad, then yeah maybe we can revisit the snake idea." Frenchie offered, having no intention of ever having anything to do with snakes or cults.

"Rad!" Archie said with glee and bounded over to the bar to get more wine.

"And how is our Viscount doing?" Lucius asked, sauntering into Frenchie's apartment.

"Ah just peachy," Frenchie lied.

"Well, it just so happens I caught a look at your betrothed, and I think you'll be pleased, he's very handsome."

"Ah, well that's good innit. He'll be handsome and snobby."

"I wouldn't be so sure, I'm an excellent judge of character, maybe even better than Queen Zheng, and I am getting very positive vibes."

"You can't just go off vibes, Lu." Wee John countered, putting a few finishing touches on Frenchie's suit with a needle and thread.

"I have been so far in life and had no issues."

Archie laughed and offered Lucius a drink at that. "Cheers, mate. I think this is going to be fun!"

"Yes and I suppose you'd be as excited if it were you getting married?" Frenchie asked, knowing he was being a bitch, but not caring. It was his wedding day after all, wasn't that part and parcel?

"Ah man, yeah I dunno. I've never been to a wedding, it would be pretty cool if my first one was my own." She laughed.

Frenchie had his guards, Fang and Ivan, walk him to the chapel. Fang was holding back tears, blaming the absurd amount of pollen in the air. At the entrance to the chapel Fang enveloped him in a giant bear hug, the tears flowing freely now.

"Ah, there there Fang," Frenchie offered, hugging back and giving his back a few reassuring taps. "You know I'm not going anywhere, right? The Baron is moving here with me."

"I know, I know that. I just get so emotional at weddings."

"Right," Frenchie pulled away from the hug and looked to Ivan who just shrugged his shoulders.

The guards opened the doors to the chapel for the Viscount with a loud creak and everyone inside turned to watch him walk down the aisle. No pressure, right! Only everyone and their mum was here to watch him get married to a total stranger. Totally normal event and all. There was a string quartet playing softly in the corner, but Frenchie couldn't hear them over the heartbeat pounding inside his ears.

His vision focused at last on the man he was to marry and Lucius was right, he was handsome. Very tall with dark features and a wild look in his eyes. Alright well, maybe this wouldn't be so bad, at least he'd have someone pretty to look at every day.

Frenchie made it to the front of the church after what felt like an eternity, all the eyes on him felt like a thousand burning suns and he just wanted this to be over with and out of the spotlight.

"Hi!" His husband to be whispered and waved to Frenchie gleefully.

His smile was so bright, Frenchie couldn't help but smile back, despite the circumstances. Frenchie stood in position, across from the handsome stranger ,and held his hand out to him. He clasped it in his own and it was then that the rest of the world melted away entirely. He felt like he was alone in church with the man standing across from him, only a vague acknowledgement that the priest was standing right next to them, saying something.

The priest bound their hands together in red cloth, and guided the two men through their vows. If you were to ask Frenchie later to recite everything back that they'd been instructed to say, he wouldn't be able to tell you. The whole event was a blur in his mind, all he could remember was the kiss. Their first kiss ever, signifying the beginning of their union. Frenchie had never felt more at home in that moment, not even caring to stop and wonder why, only appreciating it for what it was. A memory to store away and keep fresh and alive for as long as he could.

Chapter Text

Three things Frenchie learned very quickly about his new husband. One, he had strong opinions on the food being served, whispering into Frenchie's ear how he could make each dish they were served much better. Two, he had an extensive knowledge of weaponry, specifically knives and swords, making knowledgeable remarks about each weapon the present guards had equipped.  And last but certainly not least, was how gentle his touch was with Frenchie. A hand at the small of his back, a soft cupping of his ear to whisper secrets of his recipes, a soft squeeze of his knee to remind Frenchie he was there with him when Frenchie would start to feel a little overwhelmed by the party. 

 It was like nothing Frenchie had ever experienced before with anyone. How comforting his presence was, and he barely knew the man! He knew it was preposterous, but he found himself not caring in the slightest. After all, he was going to be married to him either way, might as well lean in to the comfort it brought him, whether or not it was expected. It was fun to unravel the mystery of his new husband, and Frenchie looked forward to learning everything about him.

After finishing the seven course meal, which seemed a bit excessive, but Frenchie wasn't one to complain about free food, it was time for the dance. Frenchie liked dancing, with his friends, and more so when his music drew people to dance around him. But he wasn't playing his lute, and he wasn't only with his friends, and he was expected to romantically dance with a partner, his new husband. It was an entirely new experience; one that felt more daunting by the second as Roach guided him out onto the middle of the dance floor to an eerily quiet party of onlookers. Frenchie wanted to make a joke, or say something to get the silence to go away, but found no words could come out of his throat.

 The entire wedding was bankrolled by the Queen, who had shown up for the celebration somewhere in the middle of the seven courses. For being a queen, she was quite elusive, and did not make a big grand entrance, instead entering through the back so as to not draw attention away from the newlyweds. She stood up from her throne at the other end of the banquet hall and made a toast to the newlyweds.

"May you have a loving and equal partnership for as long as you both shall live. Now, let's party!"

The crowd cheered, and clinked their glasses in celebration. It was still only Frenchie and Roach on the dancefloor though, as everyone waited to watch their first dance before joining in themselves. 

The music started soft and gentle, the string quartet playing something familiar, though Frenchie couldn't place it.

"Have you done this before?" Roach asked.

"Yeah," Frenchie lied, awkwardly taking his husbands hands in his own, until Roach fixed their positioning with a fond smirk.

Thankfully, Roach, did seem to know what he was doing and led them in their first dance together and all the nerves left Frenchie's body. He started to relax into the movements and dare say it, but he started to have fun. It wasn't long until the rest of the guests piled onto the dance floor ready to dance with their lovers or friends.

"So you will be moving in with me?" Frenchie asked as they twirled around the dance floor.

"Yes, about that…" Roach began.

"Oh, well if you don't want to we can probably figure something else out, I just know that the Queen was expecting it and—"

"No, no listen," Roach laughed, "I am moving in with you. But I also have my entourage, and was hoping the Governor could find a place for them as well."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it. Well the Governor himself is a right dick, but his son does most of the tending to the estate and I know he won't have a problem with it. That's how I got this gig after all," Frenchie laughed, and then immediately realized his mistake at Roach's raised eyebrow. "That is I mean, when my family were all tragically killed by rogue bandits, on a diplomatic mission."

"How terrible, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, erm, it's ok, it was a long time ago. Thankfully this kingdom has been so kind to an orphaned royal from far away.   Anyway, enough about my boring past. I look forward to meeting everyone in your entourage. Hopefully they'll get along with all of mine as well."

"Well, doesn't look like we need to worry too much about that." Roach said, nodding past Frenchie. Frenchie turned to see what he meant and saw Lucius making out with a shorter bald man and the rest of his crew talking animatedly to a group of people who had to have been Roach's crew.

"Fantastic, nothing to worry about there then."

They continued dancing, smiling at each other, but something started gnawing at the back of Frenchie's mind. Why was everything working out so well? It felt all a little too convenient and Frenchie couldn't tell if he was just being paranoid, or if there really was some conspiracy at play. He kept up with the dancing and smiling to hide his unease for now.