Chapter Text
The kingdom of Nibelheim has had many balls in the several years since Crown Prince Cloud of Nibelheim came of age for marriage. His mother, widowed when Cloud was just a boy, has been searching desperately for a match ever since.
Cloud knows she means well, she wants what’s best for the kingdom, caring for each citizen as if every one of them were her own child. That care, unfortunately, leaves Cloud feeling left out. Her actual son left feeling as though she cares for him less than she does for every other citizen.
His getting married isn’t about his happiness, it’s about the good of the kingdom .
He knows that the kingdom is important , that one day he will be king, and he has to care about the citizens and blah blah blah. He knows of that, he really does. But he wishes he could find a spouse in his own time, and he really, really wishes that spouse didn’t have to be a bride .
And Cloud had, in all honesty, simply grown bored of the long line of suitors his mother had found for him. He knows the importance of finding a spouse, a wife, and continuing the royal line, but it bored him to tears.
At some point, he had made it into a game, just to keep himself entertained. He knew it may sound cruel to play games with the feelings of these women, but they all knew that the prince of Nibelheim really had no interest in suitors, especially not in princesses and ladies. It’d become quite a popular topic of gossip across the seven kingdoms.
Cloud’s game was simple, really. And in his opinion, it caused no harm. He would see how long he could be unbearable for before the suitor stormed off, test how determined they were, and just how far he could push himself to push their buttons.
Today’s ball has been going quite well, Cloud was having a great time, honestly. His valet had dressed him in a deep blue suit, the color of Nibel mountains at dawn, and he’d headed down to the ball just to be immediately introduced to another princess from the kingdom of Mideel, some cousin of the king, Cloud doesn’t really care.
It takes a mere three sentences for her to walk off with a huff and a stomp, her heels clacking against the polished flooring and her dress swooshing side to side off her hips.
The next two ladies follow a similar pattern, and by this point Cloud is enjoying himself a lot . As much as he can at one of these events, that is.
After the third woman walks off, Cloud is left to enjoy a few refreshments, some drinks, and a couple of finger sandwiches, completely unbothered for at least half an hour. The most peaceful thirty minutes he’s had at a ball since he came of age. However, just as he’s starting to think that maybe, just maybe , his mother may give up on this whole marriage thing, at least for the night, Lady Elena of Midgar shows up.
Now, Cloud’s never spoken to her before, or else she wouldn’t be here in front of him, but her reputation precedes her. Almost as much as Cloud’s does himself. She’s bratty and rude and tough , Cloud’s perfect rival, he’s shocked it’s taken his mother this long to try and introduce them.
“Hello, Your Highness, ” Elena introduces herself, rolling her eyes as she spits out Cloud’s title. Cloud nearly barks out a laugh, she seems to want to be here less than he does.
“Hey,” he responds, purposefully forgoing all formalities.
She stares at him, expecting more, brows furrowing further the longer the silence stretches on. “Oh, I see how it is,” she says, “You think cause you’re the prince of this place you don’t have to use my title? You’re a real ass, you know that?” She props her hands on her hips, cocking one to the side.
Cloud raises his brows, “I don’t know who you are,” he lies, “Apologies for not knowing your title…” he trails off, waving his hand toward her, inviting her to fill in the gap, and introduce herself.
She scoffs, “ My name is Lady Elena,” she points to her chest, glowering, “I expect you to use my title.”
“Oh,” he says, snapping his fingers as if the introduction suddenly jogs his memory, “Of course, I’ve heard such great things about you,” he lies, “you’re the one who had to be rescued from the outskirts of Kalm because your carriage broke down, correct? Or was it because your servants had found you so… irksome , that they had kicked you out? I’ve heard a few variations of it. Though after this conversation I think I feel drawn to believe the latter version.”
Elena’s mouth gapes and her eyebrows knit together, “Oh, you little shit-stain, you’re lucky we’re in the middle of your castle right now, or else I’d rip you a new one, you rotten little—”
She doesn’t get to continue before a man in a fine, black suit with equally dark, hair and a mole in the center of his forehead strides toward them, pulling Elena away wordlessly.
Cloud stares after her as she leaves, shaking his head and laughing as she continues to mouth off at the man pulling her away. He’s one of her people, a special member of the royal guard from Midgar. The man’s reaction to her rambling leads Cloud to believe that he’s probably used to outbursts from her.
Guilt twists in Cloud’s gut for a moment. As entertaining as Elena’s reaction was, and it was entertaining, perhaps the best reaction he’s gotten to his game thus far, he feels terrible for her guard. It’s not as if he even lied about what he’s heard, Elena has quite the reputation when it comes to how to speak to anyone outside the royal family. Guilt swarms his gut at the thought of what the poor guard may have to deal with in the aftermath of Cloud’s game.
Cloud chews his lip, blowing a heavy breath as he returns to the floor, banishing the thought from his head. The guards are paid for this, and surely dealing with a mouthy lady is better than some of the more grueling things guards have to do, like protecting the prince from assassination attempts by would-be usurpers, or whatever else it is that the kingdom of Midgar is going through now.
It’s not even five minutes more before another lady approaches Cloud, he immediately sighs, readying himself for another string of insults or insolence. However, he doesn’t recognize the woman, not her lovely chestnut hair, tied into a simple updo, nor the style of her simplistic pink dress. She’s pretty, Cloud thinks, objectively speaking.
“Hiya, prince,” she introduces herself, bouncing on her heels. Cloud notices she’s wearing thick working boots as opposed to the thin, heeled boots typical of women’s formal wear. Her style and nonchalance immediately intrigue him. “My name’s Aerith,” she sticks out her hand, ready to shake.
“Hello, Aerith,” he answers dryly, shaking her hand weakly, “Do you have a title?”
“Nope,” she answers, smiling and popping the p , “just Aerith.” She tucks her hands behind her back and tilts her head at Cloud as if studying him.
For the first time, Cloud is knocked off his game, he doesn’t know what to say.
“Well… Aerith ,” he begins once he’s found his words, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just wanted to say hi,” she explains, “I’m kinda sorta from Gongaga, and my friend wants to meet you but he’s a bit busy at the moment, so I wanted to introduce myself before he got here. As his best friend I have to make sure you’re not, like, a jerk. You know, reconnaissance.”
Cloud presses his lips together, frowning, “‘Sort of’ from Gongaga?”
“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding enthusiastically, “moved there when I was a kid, but I was born in Icicle, then lived in Midgar for a bit, then in Gongaga and I’ve been there ever since. Well, until now, I guess.”
Cloud hums, nodding, “Where’s your friend, then?”
“He was over there,” she waves vaguely toward the front of the ballroom, “but he’s probably on his way here by now. You seem…” she looks at Cloud, squinting as if it would let her see him in greater detail, “good enough,” she settles on.
Cloud frowns again, “Well, that’s the first I’ve ever heard that one.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head, Cloud thinks for a second time that she really is quite pretty. She has a soft, serene quality to her, something soothing even when she’s being rude or plain odd.
“I’ve heard plenty about you, prince ,” she tells him, giggling, “some good,” she tilts her head, “some bad. I hear you can be quite abrasive, so I wanted to see for myself. I can tell you’re hiding, though.”
“Hiding?” he asks.
“Yourself,” she answers, as if that makes perfect sense. “I can tell your soul is… good. They just need to give you a chance,” she smiles, soft but with the slightest hint of something sad in her eyes like she truly knows something about Cloud that he doesn’t, something tragic, “and you need to give yourself the chance, too.”
Before Cloud can ask further, Aerith cracks into a wide smile, jumping and waving to someone over his shoulder, he turns the slightest bit to see who’s walking toward them.
Cloud can barely believe his eyes at who this girl’s best friend is.
Prince Zack of Gongaga. He’s dressed in deep green, the color of Gongagan jungles, or perhaps the color of the pines on Mt. Nibel, it could be the color of salmon for all Cloud knows at the moment. The prince’s black hair is slicked back, and his violet eyes crinkle as he waves back at Aerith.
“Zack!” she shouts, “come here!”
Prince Zack approaches the duo, smiling. Cloud, for the second time tonight, is left speechless. There must be something in the waters of Gongaga.
“Good evening, Your Royal Highness,” Prince Zack introduces, extending his hand to Cloud.
Cloud waits a few beats too long before extending his own hand, shaking Zack’s much looser than he intends to, “Good evening, my prince,” Cloud nods his head slightly. He thinks this is the first time he’s used someone’s proper title tonight.
Aerith clears her throat, and Cloud realizes he never let go of Zack’s hand. He releases it as if it were a hot stove, and looks at Aerith, who is looking back at both of them smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Well,” she says, “I should go. I’ve got business to attend to.”
Cloud is fairly certain she’s lying, saying business so it sounds like whatever she’s doing is important and not something like eating hors d'oeuvres or drinking cider. He doesn’t care, either, he just nods silently as she slips away.
“So,” Prince Zack begins, “where were we?”
Cloud looks at him again, and tries to breathe in through his nose as normally as he can. “Introductions, I believe.” He feels proud that his voice doesn’t crack, then feels embarrassed by the very thought, he’s a prince , not a pubescent boy.
“Oh, of course,” Prince Zack smiles, “I am Prince Zack, of Gongaga.”
Cloud raises a brow, “Of course,” he says, “No need for that. As you know, I’m Prince Cloud, of Nibelheim. Or, I’d hope you know, seeing as you are in my home. No need for such… formalities. What should I call you, my prince?” The formalities feel foreign on his tongue, he’s not even sure why he’s keeping them up. Typically he wouldn’t bother, not unless he were talking to someone much older than him, but for some reason, he can’t stop himself from speaking so properly, desperate for a good impression.
“Just Zack is fine, my prince,” Zack responds, “and you?”
“You can call me Cloud,” Cloud tells him, “I really do not care for all the… rules and titles that come with royalty and lordship.”
“Same here,” Zack laughs, and it’s the sweetest sound Cloud has heard in his entire life. It reminds him of church bells and birdsong and his mother humming to him as a child when he was ill. He feels his chest warm, and before he can even think it through, he finds his mouth opening again.
“Would you like to get out of here?” Cloud asks, “I can show you around the grounds. The gardens and some of the unrestricted areas of the castle?”
Zack smiles brightly, “I think I would like that very much.”
Cloud swallows, willing himself not to faint at the sight, “This way then,” he extends his gloved hand for Zack to take, offering to lead. Zack takes his hand easily, gloved hands cupping around one another naturally. Cloud pauses for a moment to marvel at the feeling before setting off through a side door, slipping past his own guards easily.