#I'm used to writing in Mithrun's tone which is much more cut and dry

[daistea]

𝕃𝕒𝕚𝕠𝕤 𝕩 𝕘𝕟 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 -

ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

2,300 words

post-canon - spoilers

no tws

You are being courted by the literal King of Melini. 

And he is only half aware of it. 

Laios is not oblivious concerning certain matters. However, his understanding of courting and romance are limited. It’s not an issue of intelligence, but rather his investment in the subject. He has relative awareness of what’s appropriate when dealing with a friend. He does not know how other people will interpret his actions with someone he fancies. Unfortunately, people notice him now more than ever. 

 Laios was considering the possibility of running away. 

 It was a feeling that he hadn’t experienced in years. Ever since entering the dungeon, the urge to run away had become rarer. Laios didn’t particularly seek out challenges, but he found ways to handle them. Callouses from the hilt of a sword and the stale air of underground cities had taught him the importance of standing his ground. Dragons, mad sorcerers, canaries, lions with wings and the all-consuming desire for desire— he didn’t run away despite his years of doing so before. 

 How odd that the fate of the world did not scare him away, yet rumors of his relationship with you were enough to turn him into a hermit. 

 “You haven’t made a public appearance in days.”

 Laios lifted his head to meet Marcille’s stare. She wasn’t smiling, but whether her frown was supposed to be a pout or a scowl, he couldn’t tell. He sat up straight and let his feet hit the floor, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d been sitting with his knees to his chest like a kid, scribbling on parchment. 

 “Yeah,” Laios offered a smile of his own, “that isn’t too long, I think. Plenty of people stay inside for days.”

 “Well, by days, I mean two weeks.”

 “Then why’d you say days?”

 “It’s just a— Okay, nevermind,” Marcille shut her eyes and waved a hand, “You haven’t left the palace in two weeks. There have been people showing up that want to see you, and Kabru’s had to be the one to hear out their complaints.”

 What was the issue? Kabru was probably having the time of his life. 

 From an objective level, Laios knew what Marcille was getting at. He was the King of Melini, he should’ve been publicly supporting the people. His recent shut-in behavior didn’t stem from a dislike of the job or his citizens, but rather a desire to hide from something invisible, devastating, and anxiety-inducing. 

 He gripped his parchment tighter, and his feet tapped on the wooden flooring of the palace library. “They want me to take a spouse.”

 Marcille squinted, “Yeah, what’s new? They’ve been wanting that from the very beginning.”

 “They’ve been, uh— I think it’s called shipping? No idea why. They’ve been shipping me and [Name].” Laios felt his cheeks go warm and his throat close up.

 Marcille’s eyes widened, “Oh?” Her voice went into a higher pitch, “You and [Name]? How interesting.” 

 He turned in his chair and gently set his bundle of parchment on the table. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, had very kindly made holes in the corners and tied small leather straps through the holes to make it into something resembling a book. He had the power to just make a real book, but the thought of giving these specific papers to someone else for that process made his stomach hurt. 

 “Yep,” Laios drummed his fingers up and down, one at a time, on the front page of his parchment collection. Looking Marcille in the eye suddenly felt like yanking out each and every hair on his arms for whatever reason. 

 She sighed and stepped further into the library. Closing the door behind her, she then neared his table and slipped into the seat across from him, “You obviously like them. Why not just go for it?”

 That hesitance to look her in the eye instantly disappeared as he met her stare, “I do?”

 “Obviously like them? Yes, you do.”

 Laois stared at the wood grains in the table as if they held the answers. “Huh. I don’t know about that.”

 “You drew a monster-sona for them.”

 In the specific collection of parchment that sat beneath his hands, yes he did draw a monster-sona of them. How she knew about that was a mystery, but all he could do was meet her gaze, excited, “What do you think of it?”

 Marcille’s nose scrunched, “I— I don’t think anything of it! It’s weird that you do that, actually! A normal person doesn’t make monster versions of their friends!”

 It wasn’t weird. In fact, it felt perfectly normal. Laios barely registered her outburst anyway. “I do that with everyone I care about.”

 “Right,” Marcille rested her forehead in one hand, “You do. That’s probably not the best example to use.”

 Your monster-sona was way cooler than the usual sonas he gave his friends, though— and he gave them some pretty cool sonas. Laios assigned the types of monsters and their qualities to each individual person based on what fit them. Or based on what looked the best, it depended on his mood. However, concerning you, he gave you the exact same qualities that he would have as a monster. Then, he drew your monster version and his monster version cuddling in a cave together and starting a monster family, simultaneously creating an entirely new species that would eventually reach the top of the Creature Pyramid. 

 But Marcille didn’t need to know that. 

 “I’m not ready to court anyone,” Laios said with a smile, “but I’ll try making a public appearance soon.”

 “And just ignore the rumors and pressure,” Marcille insisted. 

 “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he nodded, closing his eyes. He’d faced dragons and sorcerers and the literal embodiment of mana. He could handle a rumor or two. 

In his attempt to ignore the rumors and go about his life as he usually would, he unknowingly courts you. 

He enjoys dressing in normal clothes and going into town by himself or with friends. A lot of new restaurants have opened in Melini lately, and he wants to try them with people he loves. Including you. Often, it’s just you and him that go together. 

He makes very little effort to hide his identity. The people of Melini are hard-working and only half of them pay attention to what’s happening at the palace. The people who do recognize him are usually the residents of the Golden Country, and they treat him like an old friend. Any newcomers to the city either have no idea who he is, simply whisper about him from a distance, or awkwardly approach him. 

However, you’re often seen at his side. He looks at you when he says something he thinks is funny, just to see your reaction, your smile. He looks at you when he says something he thinks is smart, to see if you think it’s smart too. He looks at you simply to look at you. 

It’s the advisors and diplomats and delegates who notice this the most. Some people from other countries want to use it to their advantage, but Marcille and Kabru usually keep them in check. 

Laios sends you gifts often. They’re incredibly practical gifts. If he sends flowers, it’s because they have some sort of herbal-type of property that he thinks could be useful. If he sends you books, it’s because he liked them and wanted to share the story with you, so you could talk about it with him later. He sends utensils, interesting snacks, games, anything you could use for your hobbies, etc. 

Word about this only gets out because the palace servants notice and think it’s cute. It endears him to them, helping them forget about his usual blunt and out-of-pocket statements for half a second. 

The servants and other people who know Laios pity you. They often make that clear with how they treat you, as if you’re some saint for putting up with him. He ignores it, usually. With anyone else, he wouldn’t even notice it much. Yet, since it concerns you, he’s a bit more aware of their view about your relationship. He doesn’t particularly care how they see him, but the implication that you’re only close to him out of pity or charity is a bother. 

The original citizens of the Golden Kingdom genuinely like him. They’re grateful, and they accept your presence with open arms. Most of them are already assuming that you’ll be his consort one day. 

Courting from Laios, the King, also includes spending time with him at the palace. He has dogs, so many dogs, and he likes it when you play with them. 

He holds your hand a lot, seemingly at random. Yet, in his mind, it’s not random at all. He’s holding your hand because one of the dogs ran by and nearly knocked into you and you looked like you were about to fall. He’s holding your hand because the ground is muddy and he doesn’t want you to slip. He’s holding your hand because the floor was just mopped and— wait, you shouldn’t walk on the mopped floor, just stand here with him and hold his hand while it dries.

This is very normal. 

“That’s not normal.”

 Laios was starting to wish his friends would knock, or greet him with a ‘hello’ rather than out-of-the-blue statements and observations that flew right over his head. 

 He tangled his fingers with yours, casting you a glance with the intent to see your reaction. You simply looked confused at Kabru’s statement. Waiting for the floor to dry was perfectly normal, polite even. 

 “What’s not normal?” Laios asked as he returned his attention to Kabru. 

 The advisor stood in the doorway with several books nestled in the crook of his arm. He was making a face with some sort of negativity written on it, which was unusual because Kabru was usually very cheerful and polite. He didn’t often step into freshly mopped rooms and make random statements with no context. 

 “For friends,” Kabru sighed, then seemed to gather himself, putting the pieces of his mind back together. “I mean, for you and [Name] to hold hands all the time. Normal friends don’t do that.”

 Laios immediately looked at you for assurance. You shrugged. He looked at Kabru again, “What’s the problem?”

 “There’s no problem.”

 Kabru said it so genuinely, too. Every ounce of the conversation was only making Laios more confused.

 “Then why’d you just—”

 “Have you ever considered that the rumors about you two may be veridical?” Kabru asked. It was barely noticeable, but his voice went up slightly in pitch. He tilted his head and smiled as he held his books closer. There were only a few wet spots left on the floor, catching the light of the candle-covered chandelier hanging overhead. 

 Laios stepped into a dry spot and you followed without question. Your hand didn’t dare leave his, and the realization that you wanted to follow him, that you wanted to hold his hand, made his heart flutter. It felt as if there was a bird in his chest. It beat its wings with the desire to take flight. 

 The mention of the rumors kept the bird grounded, though. “Not really. We’re just friends, and we both know that.”

 “Friends don’t hold hands all the time.”

 “Falin and Marcille hold hands all the time,” Laios said, smiling as if he were proud to back Kabru into a metaphorical corner. 

 Kabru simply stared at him. He looked odd, a bit constipated. You tried to stifle a laugh, and Laios immediately turned his head to look at you, painting the image of your smile in his mind. His brain was an art gallery and you were the theme, the muse. He stared. You stared. Kabru smoothed out the constipated look and turned to leave. The floor was almost dry, but your hand stayed tangled with the King’s. 

Kabru and Marcille stage an intervention. They have the medieval equivalent to a power-point presentation with proof and observations, intended to help Laios realize that he is not just your friend. 

It does not work. 

Falin is visiting and wanders into the room. She takes a seat beside Laios, glances at Kabru and Marcille’s presentation, then innocently asks, “How is [Name]?”

Laios grins and perks up and starts to ramble, gesturing and tilting his head while he shares every thought concerning you.

Falin hums and nods. Eventually, she says, “I’m so happy you’ve fallen in love.”

And she says it so sweetly, too. 

Laios freezes. He presses his palms togethers and brings them to his lips, his eyes wide. Marcille and Kabru are staring. 

Later that night, Laios lays awake in bed and stares at the ceiling. 

He’s in love. 

He apologizes to Kabru and Marcille for all the trouble. Then, goes straight to you, and he takes your hand even though there’s no mud or obstacles or wet floors. As he kisses your knuckles— he saw Kabru do that to a diplomat lady once— it feels like a key unlocking a door. The bird in his chest takes flight when you smile. He is definitely, undeniably, irrevocably, in love.