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Chapter Text

“- Have you heard of...?”

He hadn't realized how deep in thought he was until he heard the tinkling of the little stars decorating the carriage window. He didn't know how long it would take to reach his destination, but the situation depressed him so much that he couldn't even feel impatient.

His fingers tried to reach the little bells with their pretty shapes, making them jingle to his own rhythm helped him lose himself a little in the situation, what an unexpected mess, even the voices saying goodbye to him were ringing in his ears and the whispers of his people still made his skin crawl.

Voices that judged him, eyes that looked at him with annoyance for his abandonment. Those whispers asked him if there was another alternative. Perhaps there was, but it was too late to find that answer. Even if those voices pierced his chest with pain, he could never put himself above those he loved most.

His beloved land. His beloved people.

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“- Some say that after that wise king's last visit… the two fell in love and he decided to leave… don't you think that's selfish?”

The veil itched his face, and he lifted it momentarily with one hand, although he was afraid of ruining the carefully arranged headdress in his hair. His eyes fell on the fabric of his dress skirt, and he smoothed it with his hands for a moment, trying to distract his mind from the words that made him uncomfortable.

“- Isn't that also quite romantic? Two young people deeply in love... I heard they tried to run away together!”

The fabric became slightly damp with the tears of the person wearing such fine clothes. He tried to rub the fabric to dry it, but it was useless; the tears continued to stain and flood the embroidery. He didn't know when he started crying again. The last week had been so full of turmoil that his eyes were swelling from irritation.

Even when another possibility was offered, while his mother's hands squeezed his, begging him silently not to accept what she considered the worst of the options, or the time his father cried at his bedroom door because he knew he was going to lose his son forever.

Even so, he didn't want to allow himself to cry anymore, neither out of fear of who he would have to face again, nor because of the life that awaited him once he signed those papers. He only allowed himself to hug himself for a few seconds, comforting his poor heart, which had been denied everything he had dreamed of, the life he had planned for himself and his people.

“- But isn't Pure Vanilla the only child the queen has given this kingdom?”

Perhaps a few long minutes or a desperate hour had passed since he had left his kingdom's citadel. The landscape faded into warm colors, indicating that night was approaching, which he quickly found strange. If he remembered correctly, he had left his home in the morning. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? It was impossible that the trip to the port had taken so long that it was getting dark.

Even so, he did not protest, he did not ask questions, not a word escaped his lips. The only companion he had with him was the carriage driver, who did not belong to the Vanilla kingdom, but was another servant of the Milk kingdom. Not even the carriage came from his home. There were so few things that still belonged to his birthplace inside that carriage that he could only sigh with sadness. 

He couldn't complain, even though his marriage was a sham and a contract signed between the two kingdom. The ruler he was supposed to consider his husband had given him the carriage in which he was traveling. As he rested his hands on the carriage window, his eyes also rested on the sparkling ring made of white gold that fit perfectly on the ring finger of his right hand. The blue stone in the center gave it a simple yet elegant touch. It was a very beautiful piece. If it weren't tied to that commitment, he could appreciate the gift more.

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When the moon was at its highest point, he finally spotted the port in the distance, battered by the dangerous sea. He kept wondering what kind of transport they would use to cross. He assumed it was some new flying device, as traveling across the water was extremely dangerous. Just as he was about to settle back into his seat, a flash of light caught his attention. A huge line of bright light opened up in the middle of the port's pier. The line transformed into a wider crack until it opened into an oval of magical light, which spread out dominantly and pushed aside the water that crossed its path. He was so immersed in the sight that he did not notice when the carriage had started moving again in his direction.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he recklessly reached out one hand to touch the magical opening that was getting closer and closer. 

The sensation was soft and warm, damp but not soaking his fingers. As quickly as it came, the carriage passed through a short stretch where a deep, dark night reigned, blue stars and cold drafts the only things that seemed to exist in that interval. The little stars approached him quickly, crashing into his hair and disappearing rapidly. When one of them hit his cheek, he rubbed it quickly, a little sore, which reminded him that his appearance had probably been ruined by his tears.

He reacted quickly and pressed his fingers against the talisman he always kept tied around his neck. His own magic flashed from the stone, and a small orchid unfolded with his eye closed. He used the magic of the wand in a small reflection, afraid of making a bad impression. When both future spouses had to lie about their alliance, he couldn't afford to show sadness or unhappiness at the idea.

“- Would the prince really give up everything for a love that came out of nowhere? I can't believe it.”

He pressed his lips together before looking in the mirror.

“- But he has.”

His reflection seemed flawless, no trace of tears could be seen on his face, a sigh of relief escaped his lips as he wondered if it was pure luck or if that star that exploded weakly on his face had something to do with it.

In any case, it didn't matter. The orchid returned inside the stone, and he concentrated on his arrival when the driver told him they were almost there. His veil was carefully placed over his face again, and he held the bouquet of vanilla orchids in his hands.

He was ready.

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It didn't take long for them to pass through the portal and touch the solid ground of the streets of the unknown kingdom. He closed his eyes, avoiding the light outside, while thinking about what he should do upon arrival. When the carriage stopped, his stomach turned with anxiety. He heard multiple footsteps approaching, many voices whispering to each other as they got closer.

A small sound indicated that they were opening the door handle of the carriage. He prepared to get up when one of the unknown servants reached out to help him down. He accepted quietly and carefully stepped out. 

The light hit his eyes, but it only took a few moments to adjust. Several hands reached out to help him, adjusting the bow on his white dress while carefully cleaning the skirt. Two maids took the crown from his head and removed the bouquet of flowers from his hands, replacing it with a new one, with just a couple of vanilla orchids, quite a few blueberries, and milkcrowns that overshadowed the first ones.

A little puzzled, he finally understood the message: those were symbols of his home, and they no longer had a place here. This was the Milk kingdom; it would never again be his beloved Vanilla kingdom. A sad expression adorned his face for a few moments before he was led through the castle's main door. The hallway was very long, and his eyes were drawn to the huge paintings that adorned the walls, people he did not recognize but assumed were the kingdom’s former monarchs and predecessors.

The maids lined up on either side of the hallway, bowing respectfully to their future monarch, and Vanilla thanked them for their efforts.

A final servant opened the main door leading to what he believed to be the event hall or throne room. The servant remained at the door, and the blond man knew what he had to do next. His steps were slow, but he tried to be as confident as possible. At the end of the hall, he was there.

A heavy aura concentrated in that place, in that seat. Pure Vanilla swallowed expectantly and kept walking until he met those eyes again, but he no longer saw the same face that had appeared to him so recently. His expression was intimidating and disturbing, something that would easily make him back down, but he stood his ground, bowing in respect and greeting. 

The ruler of the nation rose from his throne with a terrifying smile, causing him to tense his shoulders slightly, almost in panic.

Some called him “The Fount of Knowledge.” He had heard that his people loved him for all the efforts he had made for the happiness of his home. He had heard of him many years ago, as a school of magic had been opened in his own nation that originated from this place. Before the Vainillelense stood the director and founder of the same academy that had trained him as a child and that continued to teach so many cookies on his continent. He briefly wondered if it was true that the monarch with him really was six years old when he founded the academy's first tower. 

When his head reappeared in the room, he saw the king's hand extended toward him, and with some hesitation, he accepted the gesture. A kiss was placed on the knuckles of his bare hand, and the man's small smile made him a little uneasy again, but his attention was lost in his hair, the shiny blue and white mane flowing around the monarch as if it had a life of its own. It reminded him of the magic of the portal that had transported him there. If it weren't for them at that moment and if they weren't there for that reason, Pure Vanilla would have asked him about the spell he had used.

Still holding his hand, the monarch led him to the platform that separated the rest of the hall. A flash of magic swept through the room to remove the thick, heavy curtain that covered the second throne next to Fount's. 

As a symbolic gesture, he guided him to sit in that spot, and from one side a maid appeared with a cushion, holding a small crown of blue primroses and milkcrowns again, although the primroses were also native to his own home, he understood the message as a symbolic union between the two nations.

The king removed his white gloves, which disappeared into thin air, and his hands carefully took the crown of flowers and placed it on his fiancé's head. As he did so, he gently lifted the blond man's chin, and they looked at each other for a few seconds before the king withdrew.

“— Welcome to our nation.”

That was the first thing he said to him.

Chapter Text

He couldn't process the next few minutes clearly. He didn't know when they lifted him from his seat and led him to a room. His eyes were lost in deep, drowned thoughts, and even if he didn't want to, he couldn't stop thinking about those eyes that tried to intimidate him with scorn.

He snapped out of his trance when several servants spread out across the room, arranging objects and changing sheets. The bed in the center of the immense room was simple but quite large. He knew it was meant to be used only by him. He had read in a cultural book that in this nation, it was customary to temporarily give that room to the ruler's fiancé for as long as necessary until the official wedding ceremony.

Without saying a word and while there was too much movement throughout the room, he remained still in his place until one of the servants offered him a seat. When he did so, a couple of young maids approached to remove his accessories and help him settle into lighter clothing. Each layer and each piece of fabric was removed with care and devotion. He could see that the crystalline wings of both young women fluttered with a certain excitement, as if they truly loved doing their work.

The huge window in the room offered a partial view of a modest and rather pleasant garden. He couldn't tell if it had flowers from the region, but he was a little interested in that. There was at least something that, if he was lucky, he could enjoy about the place. Something else he could see was how the sun was still high in the sky. The light created a pleasant warmth in the room, which eased his anxiety a little.

When they gave him a choice of what to wear that afternoon, there was not just one but several well-organized, high-quality outfits, and a group of maids stood before him, proudly displaying the garments.

“Our lord wanted to give you a nice welcome gift. The closet in your room is full of new clothes that he wanted to give you.

Another gift. He didn't know if it was out of pity for the contract or his way of showing others that he felt some kind of love for him. He tried to offer the least forced or uneasy smile possible, still unsure of what to do. Or was he trying to earn his respect with expensive gifts? Whatever the answer, if he had the choice, he would reject every one of the absurd gifts he had ever given him.

He finally pointed to a fairly simple tunic among several, white with only embroidery on the skirt and sleeves, a rather modest and simple outfit, but without detracting from the delicacy he usually showed in his dress.

The ensemble was completed with one of his own personal items, a closed stole with a waffle pattern, a touch of home. Although the maids looked on in confusion, they did not question it and finished brushing his hair and lightly applying makeup to his face.

When everything was finished, only two servants remained in the room, standing in front of the chair where Pure Vanilla rested. The woman smiled and bowed before the future monarch, the young man next to her was the one who spoke.

— My lord, this is Damson Plum Cookie. She will be the head maid in charge of your daily activities. If you need anything, she will be the first to attend to you. I hope she will be able to satisfy your needs.

Pure Vanilla rose from his seat and approached her, offering one of his hands. The smiling woman accepted his greeting, and the blond man smiled at her and placed his other hand on hers respectfully.

— It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure you'll do a great job. I hope I won't be a burden.

The woman laughed softly and shook her head several times. Finally, she left the room with a bow. Only the two of them remained.

— My lord, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sweet Sapphire Cookie. My king has ordered me to manage your daily tasks and common events.

It was more than obvious that his captor would do everything possible to control his daily movements with someone he trusted deeply.

— But for now, we must retire to the main dining room. It has been a long journey... you must be hungry.

Pure Vanilla remembered the young man. The black-haired man was one of the main companions of the monarch of this nation. He had seen him at the assembly where the contract between nations had been agreed upon.

—There's no need to worry about appearances, I'm one of the few here who knows about the contract regarding the engagement.

— I know.

Although it sounded somewhat dry, the blond man's voice betrayed a deep sadness, contained in tears that would accumulate until it was time to let them out.

The young servant led the way to the living room. 

Most of the corridors looked alike, with the same colors, the same metal, the same wallpaper. Every three doors there was a small table with a new decorative item, a rather expensive vase, a collectible piece of pottery, or some shiny object. Although they were not all the same, they followed the same pattern, as did the paintings.

Distracting himself from the walk, he looked more closely at the portraits and paintings. Those in that long hallway were full of detailed paintings of a woman with a soft expression on her face. She seemed to have the same look in every painting, the only difference being the people she was with: multiple children who looked very similar to her, young people, adults, all smiling. He noticed among so many paintings that the subjects around the woman were always the same, only aging with the passing of the years. The woman remained perfectly the same, she seemed ethereal to him.

He almost bumped into Sweet Sapphire because he wasn't looking where he was going, but he stepped aside when he reached the door.

—My lord is waiting for you inside.

He swallowed hard and nodded reluctantly. The door opened, and the sight that greeted him was at least normal. Only a couple of servants were setting the table, placing clean cutlery and silver trays with plenty of food on it, and his stomach ended up churning.

Those eyes kept staring at him, he couldn't tell what they were expressing, he expected something, he wanted him to behave, he supposed. 

A middle-aged woman carefully guided him to his seat at the table, adjusted his chair, and let him sit down.

— My lord, we haven't been able to adapt to your diet yet, but we are happy to offer you some of our traditional food. We promise that your meals will taste great and will be prepared by the best hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see his fiancé's somber face, but he quickly looked back at the woman, shook his head, and offered her a warm smile to calm her.

— It's not necessary. I know that I will soon be able to adapt to the food here. Thank you very much for your efforts.

How many workers attended Fount? There were so many people in that palace that it seemed strange to him; many of them did not belong to the main citadel, he could tell by their features and characteristics, but they did not seem unhappy either. Perhaps it was what they said: their people were always so grateful that they offered him their deep devotion and help.

The woman bowed in a curtsy and left the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two “lovers” completely alone.

It was uncomfortable, if not more. In the silence of the room, only the brief clinking of cutlery could be heard, or even, being so quiet, he could hear his companion chewing. They both remained at opposite ends of the table.

Although Vanilla wasn't able to enjoy his food very much, he tried his best to swallow, not wanting to waste the efforts of such kind people who had gone to so much trouble to feed him. Fount seemed to notice this, his gaze burning into his face, as if trying to penetrate his mind and know what he was thinking.

— How was the trip?

He almost choked on the little he had put in his mouth, coughed a little, and cleared his throat by taking a sip of water. His counterpart was still waiting for an answer. It was strange how he was trying to make conversation so casually. In fact, the mere fact that they were sharing the same room would always seem strange to him.

— It was... fine, no problems.

Fount's gaze softened, he put his food aside as he rested his elbows on the table and continued the conversation.

— It's a relief, I hope the portal on the way didn't cause any problems... The spell isn't strong enough yet to transport a person without having to go through my magic dimension.

He didn't understand what he meant by saying that, he didn't know how well-intentioned his words were. Still, he knew that as long as he didn't cause too much trouble, they could live peacefully.

— Still, it's a big step forward, as always.

He paused for a moment, and Fount's soft chuckle echoed throughout the empty room.

— That's true.

With that said, there were again several seconds where not a single word was shared, but the monarch's gaze remained fixed on the blond man. When he realized exactly where he was looking, his right hand automatically stopped at his pendant, covering it with his trembling fingers.

— You know, something that always struck me as unusual is how similar our family crests are. Some details are different... but the shape is exactly the same.

A flash of magic crossed the table and struck his hand, causing him to pull it away without any real control, revealing the shiny, magic-charged emblem.

— It's such a beautiful color, don't you think? Magic takes so many forms depending on who wields it... it's so enchanting.

Unable to move even his fingers, he let out a groan when the stone fell out of the brooch on his chain. He panicked for a few seconds, while Fount calmly got up. He began to tremble with fear, even though the piece was only a container of familiar magic and not a part of his body. He didn't know what Fount was capable of doing with it.

He turned his face away from him when he was closest, his breathing quickened, and he wanted to run away. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the monarch.

But when a few moments passed and he felt no movement, he opened his eyes, meeting the man's gaze. Those piercing eyes contrasted so much with the velvet box in front of him, in which lay a new chain with a new silver clasp, shiny, contrasting too much with his bronze clasp. It also had the perfect shape of his stone, but, of course, upside down. 

—Do you know what your role is here? Right?

Pure Vanilla just nodded, and the vague answer irritated Fount, who gently took his chin so he would look at him.

— So you're going to have to get used to this. You'll have to adapt. The people out there expect you to be up to the task, do you understand?

A snap of magic made the pendant disappear. The blond quickly brought his right hand to his chest, searching for the chain. His eyes changed from fear to sadness, and he avoided Fount's gaze again. 

His shiny hair darkened momentarily, he let go of it and took the pendant with some haste, lifted his fiancé from the chair and made him turn his back to him, while he adjusted and secured the pendant in place. The stone quickly became embedded, and the sad expression of pure vanilla never left his face.

— Isn't it beautiful? Every day you will look more like mine, you can be sure of that.

A half-length mirror appeared in front of them, giving them both a perfect view. Fount embraced him with an affection that Vanilla was unable to process, understand, or even comprehend why he was touching him with warmth.

— Don't we look perfect?

Pure Vanilla did not answer.

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The rest of the dinner proceeded normally. When everyone was satisfied, the first to rise from the table was his fiancé, who was immediately attended to by a girl with two green apples for pigtails. The girl remained very cheerful when she looked at the blond man.

— I'm going to retire to my office. I have things to attend to at the academy. If you need anything, let Sweet Sapphire know. If you need me, he'll let me know.

He left through the other door outside the family dining room. The girl who was with him fluttered with excitement, her crystal wings making her affection for the monarch clear. The only thing he could notice was how that bright, stellar hair... was fading.

At last, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He felt tense again, he didn't belong here, and he knew it, but there was little he could do. He tried to calm himself as he remembered why he was there, why he had to remain in his chair and smile at people he didn't know. The worst part was that it wasn't their fault, or anyone else's, but rather the damn contract that gave him no respite.

— My lord.

The sudden voice startled him, but he was able to breathe again when he realized it was Sweet Sapphire.

— It's quite a warm afternoon for a walk... the king ordered me... that if you wished, I could give you a tour of the palace.

— Can you take me to the garden?

The sudden request surprised the butler, who nodded and led the way to his destination. They walked silently down the same corridor again, and as before, he remained focused on the paintings of the mysterious woman.

— Forgive me if this is imprudent, but... I would love to know... Who is the woman in all these portraits?

Sweet Sapphire stopped walking and turned to look at the same painting that the blond man was observing so intently.

—She is the mother of this nation, predecessor of our current king and mother of the same. Royal Bilberry ruled this country for more than a millennium, longer than any of our ancestors have been able to rule...

His lips parted to ask if he knew why her reign had lasted so long, his curiosity on the tip of his tongue.

—...Our current king was her last son.

He stopped short, that last statement perfectly explaining what had happened, without even needing to recount such a long story.

Sweet Sapphire continued the tour, while Pure Vanilla once again lost himself in his thoughts, looking at the same paintings with different eyes.

At least in that world, monarchs were appointed sequentially in a long line of blood relatives. It was not just a matter of one family being stronger than the rest of the people; it was about their purpose for existing in these lands. Those fortunate enough to be born into the ruling family of each nation had an almost minimal chance of inheriting the throne.

Those extraordinary genes prolonged the lives of their carriers, making them “immortal,” or at least longer-lived than most people. The goddesses had bestowed this virtue upon them to maintain a hierarchical order; the rules had not changed for any major nation. The heir had to possess this gift, or it would be impossible for them to take power.

This clearly led to major problems, as not all children of a gene carrier were born with the gene, and even if a carrier could procreate without the involvement of another person, there was no guarantee that the result would be suitable.

This forced many monarchs to have many children, which increased the chances of finding a suitable heir.

He assumed that was what it was all about: so many children, so many elderly people. The woman in each painting, Royal Bilberry, had seen many of her children grow up only to die in old age, because she was unable to pass on the gene that was so important for the goddesses themselves to allow succession.

So many years mixed with losses and babies that her arms would never hold again must have affected the woman's mental health to catastrophic levels.

She stopped at the last painting in the collection, at the end of the long corridor. It framed a woman with a melancholic gaze, the longest and most beautiful white hair he had ever seen in any other painting, a simple dress, unlike the ostentatious dresses in the other pieces, and the chubby baby resting in her lap, with those uneven eyelashes, bright eyes, and a characteristic mark on his forehead that he would recognize anywhere.

Now he understood why it was said that Blueberry Milk Cookie had inherited the throne at such a young age.

Chapter Text

The dry grass greeted them, and he couldn't help but sigh with disappointment, but he tried to cheer himself up. If he could convince his captor, perhaps he could restore the place.

The weeds were a nuisance in many places. It seemed that no one who knew how to care for these places had been left to work here. The bushes were poorly pruned, and the few flowers surrounding the place did not look their best. They were probably more like wild weeds that were taking over the place.

He was surprised by the state of the place, being in one of the sections of the palace, still inside the fence and stone wall that protected the place from intruders, or, in his case, prevented him from escaping.

— This garden... it hasn't been properly cared for… a very long time. It used to be the playground for the children of the palace.

Sweet Sapphire commented, as if reading his mind or sensing his thoughts. Pure Vanilla nodded, continuing his tour of the deteriorated place. He could see traces of dried flowers, many of which he recognized even in their poor condition. It was curious how flowers that were meant to grow and last for centuries could wither so young.

The rest of the structures were also in poor condition. Much of the decorative architecture was rusted or completely ruined. A small bench stood in front of a fountain where water no longer flowed. He swore that the place looked better from his window. Perhaps it had been a visual effect or a trick of his eyes, which were exhausted from the journey and the stress of it. He sat down even though Sweet Sapphire had hurried over.

— Your Majesty, you might get your clothes dirty. Please allow me to cover the space a little.

His words were interrupted by the blond man, who had already taken a seat.

— All right, I just need to sit down for a few moments to rest, but... I wanted to ask you a favor, if it's not too much trouble.

As he shook his head repeatedly, a small portal appeared between them, from which Sweet Sapphire took out a pen and a blank scroll. Pure Vanilla was surprised to see him preparing to write down his request. He found it very curious how he had guessed that he would ask for something that required Sapphire as an intermediary.

— Could you... write a request for the renovation of this place?— He crossed his fingers anxiously. — I understand that it may be imprudent to make such a big request on my first day here, but... I would like to be able to start working on this little place as soon as possible.

The servant was somewhat surprised, but he quickly began to write the request.

— How many people do you think need to be hired to prepare this place?

— Perhaps… I only need two assistants.

— Do you plan to work in this garden yourself?

— Why not?

Both looked confused, perhaps it was culture shock and neither could see how unusual their behavior was. After all, life in their old palace seemed much simpler and less ostentatious than the luxurious life they now led.

— Why do you want to restore this place? It hasn't been maintained for at least 200 years, except for cutting back the weeds.

— Perhaps it would be a good activity for me to adapt.

Sapphire scratched the back of his neck, still puzzled. His gaze shifted elsewhere for a few moments, and within seconds he began to shake his head, quite nervously.

— I apologize for questioning you. I will finish drafting your request.

The servant's anxiety made the blond man notice a growing itch on his neck. He felt nervous too, as if someone's gaze were burning his skin. He ignored this for a moment, continuing to ask Sweet Sapphire to write a list of things he thought he would need to begin repairing the place.

When he was finished, the servant inserted the parchment back into the same magical crevice that had appeared minutes earlier. He placed both hands on his back and bowed before the future monarch, then remained still, waiting for further instructions, or perhaps a response.

It was then that he couldn't help but look for what was causing him so much anxiety, what was making his skin itch and keeping him so nervous. He met the gaze of his captor on one of the palace balconies, specifically the one that seemed to lead to his office. In a few seconds, he seemed to receive the short scroll that ended the eye contact they had shared for a few moments.

He seemed focused on reading the request, although for a few moments he reconnected his gaze with him. Pure Vanilla waved his right hand in greeting, a nervous, impulsive gesture. Why was he greeting him?

Fount turned his head slightly, returned the greeting briefly, and then turned to go back into the room.

That had been awkward, like almost all of their interactions.

—  have good news for you, our king has accepted the request. We assure you that within two days, every tool you requested and two new employees will be at your disposal.

A small smile graced his face for a few seconds, good news. It warmed his heart for a few seconds before returning him to reality.

He rose from the worn bench and carefully dusted off his robe. Together with Sweet Sapphire, he continued walking through the garden, which was even more extensive than before. As they walked, they momentarily lost sight of each other. It wasn't something the blond man had planned; he had become so lost in his thoughts that he never realized his companion had lost sight of him.

In front of him now was the stone wall, an extensive wall that surrounded the entire palace and its surrounding areas. His palms touched the surface and, still distracted, he enjoyed the texture as he closed his eyes. His left hand continued to touch the wall as he walked along part of the border.

The silence was filled with a faint humming of a melody that always came back to him somehow, until the hand that was tracing the reliefs and imperfections of the wall stopped touching it. That was when he stopped, opened his eyes as he felt the breeze on his skin, and the light hit the accumulated undergrowth. It was a large hole in the wall, it looked more worn, but he could tell it had been created by someone on purpose, an intruder? Or an escape route for someone inside? Although he had no answer, he couldn't help but keep watching.

It looked old, as weeds prevailed and vines covered the cracks, taking over the structure. It was dangerous for the safety of the palace; perhaps he should report the discovery.

But.

He was only a few inches from the outside. What if he escaped? What if he found a way to return home?

Although the option was right in front of his eyes, he couldn't give in to his intrusive thoughts. He had agreed to be here and now, and he couldn't back out. The consequences would end up being paid by more people along with him.

Hearing Sweet Sapphire's voice calling him, he quickly moved away from the opening, trying to forget about it, bringing clear relief to an exhausted servant who seemed to have panicked when he disappeared for a few minutes.

— My lord, night is falling. We must return to your chambers. The king has agreed to a meeting first thing in the morning with the royal council... I am told that they must discuss the terms of the contract again before the wedding.

Although he didn't respond, he simply motioned for him to guide him back to the palace, anxiety rising like bile in his throat. Having to review the terms and conditions of the contract again was too much for him; every word he had signed reminded him of how far he was from home and how difficult it would be to return, even for a visit.

The return to his room was quicker than expected. He rubbed his forehead in annoyance, realizing how often being so lost in his thoughts made him act on autopilot, losing track of time and sometimes not even understanding when he had gone to another room.

When he was invited to the dining room for dinner, he refused and asked for the food to be delivered to his room. He felt bad about giving others more work, but he didn't want to see that face again, at least not until tomorrow.

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The silver platter with dirty dishes and silverware, but with hardly any traces of food, was on a tea table away from the bed, which was well covered with soft, fluffy sheets and as many pillows as he could indulge in.  

He had asked for privacy for the night, apologized, and locked the doors leading to his room. He could only hear small movements at the door, probably the guards protecting him, or rather, keeping him captive.

He had taken a bath several long minutes ago, his hair was already dry, and the only thing covering him was a light, translucent cloth. The moonlight in its full splendor provided enough light for the room that he did not need to turn on any flashlights.

Even in the simplicity of his nakedness, anyone who looked at him could admire that beauty, delicate, simple yet divine.

He was so restless and uncomfortable in the room that all he could do was explore it, touch every texture. He knew that many things there had been hand-carved, and admiring the artists work made him forget for a moment, made him believe that at least for that it had been worth it.

His steps led him to the wardrobe, trying to find a light cloth to rest in, but all he could find were too many hangers, too many lines and outfits, eccentricity in every detail. He didn't need so much, and yet they gave him so many things in such a short time as if they were worthless. He rubbed the engagement ring he couldn't take off, searched through thousands of fabrics, and his face momentarily delighted in the softness of some garments, until he came across a drawer with several options, but it was clothing for his rest.

Carrying the necessary items to the bed, he hummed the same melody he used to calm himself, his feet automatically moving across the room in an uneven, meaningless dance. It wasn't harmonious, but it reminded him of home.

When he was finally able to lie down on the bed, the weight of the whole day fell on his fragile body, his fingers exploring his own skin, trying to rub away wounds that weren't there, wounds he couldn't see.

Not even his lips curled into a grimace before he began to cry; his sobs only came when his right hand touched his wet cheeks.

It was like this until exhaustion allowed him to rest.

｡𖦹°‧

Four people sat elegantly dressed in starry, overly formal attire.

Their posture was firm, elegant, and serious. The main chair in the center of the room belonged to him, and next to it was a similar chair, with only slight changes in the carving of the structure. He kept his gloves on and clean while reading a scroll that was too long, which he would surely have to review again later. His hair, which was sometimes too uncomfortable due to its length, was combed and braided. The final piece was the gleaming white crown that dictated his position of importance. An appearance that was not at all modest, but neat and clean, with the sole purpose of captivating the eyes of one person.

Two minutes later, the door to the room opened for the third and last time before being locked for the next three hours.

His fiancé looked as majestic as he always remembered him, his milky eyelashes rarely allowing him to enjoy the sight of such beautiful eyes, but he was happy with his mere presence.

When he sat down, he wanted to take his hand gently, as a greeting, but he stopped halfway, it was not yet prudent, he could still feel him trembling a little in his presence. But it was okay, he had time, there was still time for him to adapt to his new love, to his new home.

A shiny table was placed in front of everyone, on which several pages of a contract that was already in force and legal in their nation and in the nation on the neighboring continent were stacked.

The first person in the line of advisors stood up, staring at the only blond person in the room and perhaps the only one in the entire main citadel.

The first page was displayed as an introduction. It was nothing new, and he doubted that it was something his future husband hadn't reviewed countless times. He only answered small questions that required short answers, but he could tell how tense he was.

He didn't blame him; it was difficult to get used to new surroundings and new authorities. Perhaps he should get him a new piece of jewelry to cheer him up, something simple that would look beautiful on him, although it was difficult, because in his eyes, anything looked good only when his fiancé wore it.

About thirty minutes passed before they touched on an important topic in the contract.

— Do you know the main task you have come to our lands to fulfill?

An affirmative answer.

— Once again, we must remind you that you will have to carry out this task as many times as necessary until you have a good product for the nation.

Although he gave another affirmative answer, he couldn't help but notice how his trembling hands rubbed his belly under the table. He didn't understand if he longed for it or feared the parasite that could eat him from within, even if it didn't yet exist, nor were there any traces of it until after the official ceremony. It was curious how he clung to the fabric as if there was something to protect there, or perhaps to tear away.

— If our theory is correct, the firstborn should already have inherited the important gene. Even so, we reiterate that our nation can only be handed over to someone who has more of our blood than yours, right?”

His gaze remained fixed on his abdomen, while his fiancé seemed to bury his fingers with palpable anxiety. Once again, he answered affirmatively.

｡𖦹°‧

Over the next hour, they discussed the prohibitions and regulations that Pure Vanilla would have to abide by as the sole consort and future spouse of the nation's leader.

He couldn't help but smile a little happier than he should have when the prohibition on trips back to the vanilla kingdom was repeated. While the blond's stomach sank with the sadness that this meant, Fount was just a sea of happiness with such restrictive conditions.

When it was mentioned that many of his decisions had to be approved by the king first, another smile crossed his lips.

He could see the discomfort on his husband's face, but he didn't care enough to want to change the contract.

— Don't worry too much, if you're good, you know you'll have everything you need, even what you don't.

The contract consists of a compilation of all the current information on the marriage agreement between the nations, which was legal proof here and on the other continent of their marriage and alliance. It was in the interests of both nations, and both nations asked for something in return. On the part of the Vanilla kingdom, a trade agreement and a legal prohibition on any war that might result from any conflict, whether land or naval, was requested. The Milk kingdom requested the hand of the only heir to the vanilla royal family, with the purpose of producing a suitable heir to the crown. There was an original document for each nation, and both would come into effect at their respective times.

Pure Vanilla's freedom was in the possession of Blueberry Milk from the moment the engagement was accepted until a divorce was finalized.

Meanwhile, the rest of the commercial and military agreements were agreed to take effect once the wedding ceremony was officiated in the Milk kingdom.

And so it was that Pure Vanilla was not afraid of making a mistake that would break the agreement between nations, but he was also terrified that the nation that held him captive would still carry out its threats against his homeland.

｡𖦹°‧

Although they had agreed on three hours, it had stretched to five, time slipping through their fingers as each document was reviewed.

It seemed absurd that one of the physical proofs of exchange was an island he had only visited once, which had long served as a trading and exchange point between continents, but which in a month would officially become the territory of both nations. But he knew it was an excuse, a cover-up, perhaps another stupid wedding gift that was at least useful to his nation.

He had asked to be allowed to rest in his room until lunchtime. So for about twenty minutes, he lay still on the bed, reclining, while his small blond waves were ruined by the position.

He whimpered as he clutched his belly, whispering.

— Oh beloved goddesses, allow my belly to be fit and may any birth that comes from it have a full and perfect life.

He pleaded.