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unpredictable-probabilities · 2 months ago

Text

A Vow Claimed || Chapter 1: Arranged

Summary:

After discovering that his family has fallen into hard times, Hob Gadling takes it upon himself to accept a wealthy proposition of marriage to an inscrutable scion.

Notes:

Thank you so much to @signiorbenedickofpadua for all the resources about the Regency era~

Still, this fic is more Vibes than Historical Accuracy and there will definitely be anachronisms especially about gender, people of color, and politics in general.

And as always, a big thank you to @patchyegg87 for helping me brainstorm this and for beta-reading <3

One last thing:

Apeiros (ah-pie-ruhs) - a surname to replace "Endless", from Ancient Greek ἄπειρος (ápeiros), meaning “infinite, boundless”

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Square/Prompt: C2 - Arranged Marriage | @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Regency, Historical Inaccuracy, There's no homophobia, Arranged Marriage, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Hob has good parents, Dream does not

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59599552/chapters/152005054

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Hob swung his leg over the tall gate and dropped on the ground with a grunt, his winter coat barely softening his fall. One might have expected the only son of Lord Gadling to conduct himself with more grace, but anything resembling propriety had left Hob after his fourth mug of ale, and sneaking back into their house in the dead of night required more urgency than elegance, anyway.

He unsteadily rose to his feet, looking around at the windows to be certain that none of the lamps in the rooms were lit. His parents had retired to their bedroom before he even left the house and would most likely be asleep by now.

He made it to the entry hall and saw that there was light coming from the living room. Perhaps some servants were still awake, but he was friendly enough with them that none would give him any trouble should they run into him. He was about to head for the stairs and to his bedroom when he heard what sounded like hushed voices.

He furrowed his eyebrows and quietly approached the living room, staying hidden in the shadows of the corridor. He slowly peered around the corner and saw his parents on the sofa, a small lamp and two goblets of water on the small table in front of them.

“We could always sell this house,” said his mother. “With a land of this size, we could acquire enough fortune to move somewhere smaller and use the rest of the money to keep the farms going.”

“But this house belonged to your mother,” Hob’s father said. “And her mother before her. You had said that you wish to keep this house in the family,” he gently added.

“Oh but I don’t know what else to do, Frederick. It is only the beginning of December, and we have long weeks of winter ahead of us still. We can survive well enough until spring, but what then? Our crops will not grow nearly fast enough to replenish the money we had spent these past months.”

Hob felt something twist in his stomach. He was entirely aware of the part he played in why their finances had been nearly depleted, but he had no idea how bad the situation had gotten.

The alcohol that had been clouding his mind was dissipating, the pleasant haze of inebriation being steadily replaced with the realisation that he had been sneaking out a few nights a week for mindless amusement while his mother had been considering selling their home.

“There is still… the deal that Lord Apeiros had proposed in his letter,” his father said.

“No,” Hob’s mother shook her head. “I will not force our son into such an arrangement.”

Hob frowned. Even among the nobles, Lord Apeiros was exceptionally influential. His ancestors were barons and served as advisors or generals back when the country still had a monarchy, and House Apeiros still retained much of their wealth even when they no longer served the government. Why would someone like Lord Apeiros even take notice of their little family, and what did Hob have to do with any of it?

“Neither will I,” his father said reassuringly. “But perhaps we might take it into consideration, if it is something our son would be willing to do. He is six and twenty; he is more than old enough to make the decision for himself.”

His mother looked down at her lap and fidgeted with a handkerchief. “He had already given up half his salary for the administrative work he does for the farms, I cannot ask him to do this.”

“Do what?” Hob stepped out of the shadows and faced his parents.

“Hob,” his father said in surprise.

“Are you heading out at this hour?” his mother—who he now noticed had red rims around her eyes—frowned at his winter coat.

“What does Lord Apeiros want with me?” Hob asked, but was only met with the hesitant gazes of his parents. “Mother, please.” He walked over to sit beside her, taking her hand in both of his. “How can I help?” He looked to his father in hopes that he would explain. “Let me pay back the fortune I had lost.”

“The tavern brawl was not your fault, son,” his father said kindly, the grey half-circles under his eyes giving him a weary expression. “You merely defended Miss Johanna’s honour.”

“And who knows what would have happened to you two had you not fought back,” his mother squeezed his hand.

Hob knew they were right, but even before that night he had already been spending their money on lavish parties he held in this house to celebrate the harvest season, as he had done so for the past three years. The hefty sum they had to pay for the damages done to the tavern was merely the final straw.

“What does Lord Apeiros want?” Hob persisted.

His mother looked down at their joined hands and pursed her lips, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

It was his father who spoke, slowly as if being careful in choosing his words. “Lord Apeiros has expressed his faith that once this winter is over, we will continue to be the town’s main supplier of crops. He is interested in… being involved with our livelihood.”

Hob furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “He means to purchase our farms?” He supposed it made sense, rich noblemen had been known to buy lands and businesses they might find profitable. But that still didn’t explain what it had to do with him; he just worked at their farms but the ownership is still under his father’s name.

His parents exchanged glances, and his mother’s grip on his hand tightened a fraction.

“He has a son of the same age as you…” she said, still looking at their joined hands. “If our families were to legally unite, so would our finances.”

Hob’s face went slack with realisation as his mother’s words slowly became clear. He was frozen in place as his mind tried to deny and reason that perhaps he had misunderstood.

His father met his gaze, and Hob dreaded to hear the explanation that he had been insisting upon.

“He means for you to marry his son. Mr. Morpheus Apeiros.”

═════ ◈ ═════

“My lord?” The voice of their librarian took Morpheus out of the story he had been reading. “You’re here early. Have you broken your fast?” She approached his table.

“I had no appetite to do so,” Morpheus said without looking up from his book, staring at the fine grains of sand in the illustrated hourglass. “And I still do not have it, so I would thank you not to bother with convincing me to have a meal,” he cast a sideways glance at her.

Lucienne sighed. “I do wish you would develop healthier eating habits, my lord.”

“And I wish you would stop calling me by that title in private. It seems we are both disappointed,” he said lightheartedly. They were childhood friends and he had grown closer to Lucienne than some of his siblings; it always made him want to wrinkle his nose whenever she called him by a title.

Lucienne pulled up a chair and took a seat to his right. “What’s got you brooding on this fine spring morning, Morpheus?”

He closed the book and placed it on the table, resting his palm on the cover. “The meeting… is today.”

Lucienne was silent for a few moments. No doubt she knew of today’s significance; all the house staff were made aware so as to prepare the necessary arrangements. Far be it from House Apeiros to disappoint guests.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Lucienne asked quietly, kindly and without pity. It gave Morpheus some degree of comfort.

“No,” he said sincerely. The time for second thoughts had long since passed. “I am simply making the most of what little time I have left available to myself. Once the arrangement has begun I might not have the luxury of being here at my leisure.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lucienne furrowed her eyebrows. “You will still have time to yourself, will you not?”

Morpheus leaned back in his seat. “Mother and Father do not approve of my spending time reading books that have nothing to do with making profits. What sort of spouse do you imagine they have handpicked for me?” He had already accepted the possibility that he would have to hide his reading habits from yet another person in his life that he would be forced to live with, and yet it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lucienne fell silent, knowing that empty words of comfort would just upset him further.

“It’s strange,” Morpheus smiled without mirth. “They named me after the Greek god of sleep and dreams, yet they see little value in me resting or engaging in anything remotely artistic.”

He traced his fingers on the embossed letters of his name on the book cover, so familiar and yet distant. He could not be any more different from his namesake; the god Morpheus was free to create stories and shape the dreams of others, while he was not free to shape his own.

“Sometimes I think they just named us after gods to sate their vanity,” Morpheus muttered half to himself. “Perhaps Father found out what our family name meant in Ancient Greece and decided to lean into the Greek aesthetic.”

Lucienne huffed a chuckle. “That does sound like him.”

They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Do you really not think it possible to become friends with your betrothed? You could both make the situation better for yourselves if you could at least confide in each other.”

Morpheus could feel a slight frown crease his forehead. He had asked Matthew to gather all the information he could about Lord Gadling’s only son, and suffice to say he was not holding out hope that they would get along well. With his famous parties and rumours of drunken nights at taverns, Robert Gadling seemed frivolous at best and a scoundrel at worst. More likely than not, Lord Gadling was hoping to force his son to be tempered by marriage to an influential family, or at the very least make him someone else’s problem.

Morpheus sighed and opened his book again. “I should like to be left alone now, Lucienne.”

She nodded and stood up. “I will tell Matthew to bring you some food.”

Morpheus turned to her and frowned. “He is my secretary, not a servant.”

“He’s the only one who is never afraid to approach you no matter how grumpy you’re being,” Lucienne pointed out.

“I am not grumpy,” he said indignantly, to which Lucienne responded with an amused smirk. “And I thought no food is allowed in the library?”

“It’s allowed if I say it is,” Lucienne said with finality before turning on her heel to presumably fetch Matthew.

Morpheus allowed himself a small smile as the door closed behind her. If nothing else, he knew he would always have the two of them.

═════ ◈ ═════

“Can’t remember the last time I’d seen you all dressed up.”

Hob had been standing beside the carriage and he turned at the sound of Jo’s voice. “I could say the same about you, Miss Johanna.”

They dressed more like the common people whenever they went with their friends outside, mainly because their friends were common people, and they’d preferred to blend in.

Today was different, however. Hob’s entire ensemble was tailor-made and designed to impress even the most scrutinising nobles, while Jo was dressed in fine outdoor clothing befitting of her stature as the daughter of a viscount.

“We haven't seen you in months and now you’re off getting engaged?” she had walked over and leaned against the carriage with her arms crossed.

Hob managed a smile. “No engagement yet. Everyone still has to agree to the finality of it in today's meeting.”

Jo snorted, which looked mildly unnerving given her elegant dress and hairstyle. “You're not going to be able to go out with us anymore, being a married man. We'd have one less bloke to bet on card games and pay for drinks.”

“Abel usually has enough coin to bet, and from what I hear Rachel's buying you drinks now, eh?” Hob quipped. He wasn't entirely surprised about it, anyone with working eyes would see how those two looked at each other.

A light blush coloured Jo’s face even as she glared. “We're talking about you now.” Her scowl turned into something resembling concern. “Are you sure about this, Hobsie? The Apeiros aren't just any noble family. You'd have eyes on you all the time, your every movement criticised and catalogued for the papers.”

“I don't believe it'll be that bad,” Hob felt like he was trying to convince himself more than her. “The man I'm set to marry is hardly ever in the papers. Perhaps his preference for solitude would work to my advantage in staying out of the public eye.”

Jo took a step closer and lowered her voice. “I’ve met Morpheus Apeiros in a handful of social events, always stiff as a board and never deigns a smile to anyone. He might seem like one of those prissy lordlings you find challenging to swive, but you would actually have to stay with him for far longer than a night of bedding.”

Hob almost winced at the blunt reminder of who he had been just months ago. “I know, but I don't see him as someone to bed as a challenge, I actually hope to befriend him. It's reasonable to assume that he would like to avoid a miserable marriage just as much as I do.”

Jo sighed. “I know your parents aren't forcing you to do this. So why are you?”

Hob absently traced his fingers on the family crest engraved on the ring he was wearing. As the firstborn he was obliged to wear it to important appointments. “I have to do this, Jo. I gave my word to my parents three months ago that I would do all I can to help and make up for my past mistakes. And I'm standing by it.”

Jo shook her head. “You never should have fought with those thugs back in September.” The guilt in her voice didn't escape Hob’s notice.

“I wasn't referring to that,” he said sincerely. “They deserved it, and I'd do it again. But maybe smarter next time, and with not as much property damage.”

Jo rolled her eyes fondly.

“Miss Johanna,” said the delighted voice of Hob’s mother.

They turned to see her arm-in-arm with Hob’s father, walking down the front steps following the coachman who took his place in front of the carriage.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Hob’s father smiled. “We had not seen you in a long time.”

“You have grown so much!” Hob’s mother cooed as they stopped walking in front of Jo.

“Lord Frederick, Lady Amelia,” Johanna returned the smile and curtsied politely. “I just came to see old Hobsie before he's gone.”

“I'm going to get engaged, not hanged,” Hob scowled at her playfully.

His mother chuckled. “Well, we best be off now. It would not do to be tardy,” she patted Hob’s arm.

They said their goodbyes and soon enough the carriage was rolling along the path to the wealthier part of town.

Hob could not have guessed how long the journey had been, nervous as he was and feeling cold despite the sunny weather.

It felt like no time at all and they were stepping out of the carriage and onto the grounds of the Apeiros manor. Hob vaguely noticed the carriage drive away once more, and the pleasantries exchanged by his parents and the house staff as they were invited in. They had arrived a bit early, apparently, and they were being led to some chairs and tables in the garden to have some refreshments while the banquet was being prepared.

The chill that Hob had been feeling in the carriage ride had completely disappeared and he could almost feel himself sweating under his clothes. They were outdoors but somehow the imposing walls of the manor felt suffocating, the tall windows like eyes looking down upon him with judgement.

“I'm sorry, pardon, can I take a stroll while we wait?” Hob asked one of the footmen nearby.

“Of course, Mr. Gadling,” the footman tipped his head politely. “You may all walk the garden freely, and you will be summoned when it is time for lunch.”

“Are you well, my dear?” His mother asked, frowning in concern.

“I am,” Hob forced himself to smile. “Just need to stretch my legs after the carriage ride.”

“Don't you want some refreshments first, at least?” his father gestured to the drinks and fruit slices on the table.

“No, I'm fine, really.” Hob hoped his nausea didn't show on his face. “I'll be right back.”

He turned and walked away slowly enough as to remain polite and inconspicuous, but couldn't stop his feet from speeding up once he was out of sight of everyone.

He stopped beside a fountain and took out his handkerchief to dab at the sweat on his forehead. He had managed to keep relatively calm about this arrangement for the past three months, and now it seemed that without the worries of winter occupying his mind, all the nervousness was catching up to him.

A sudden flap of wings startled him and he gasped, almost tripping on his own feet as he stumbled backwards.

A black and white raven had perched on top of the fountain, looking at Hob with beady eyes and its head tilted slightly to the side. Was it curious? Hob hadn't spent enough time with birds to know.

“You gave me a fright,” Hob addressed the raven if only to work off some of the uneasiness thrumming under his skin. “I thought my heart would stop, and I have no intention of dying today, thank you very much. Or ever, if I can help it.”

“Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?”

Hob whirled around and nearly stumbled again, searching for who had spoken.

A fair man dressed in fine dark clothing was walking towards him. He seemed to have come from the bench a few feet away that Hob had failed to notice when he first turned this corner. Embarrassment heated Hob’s face as he realised that the man had just watched him have a conversation with a bird, though he noticed that the man didn't seem to be mocking him. There was only curiosity in those piercing blue eyes.

The man held a book to his side as he walked, a finger placed between the pages to keep it from closing entirely. He carried himself with far too much confidence to be a servant, and was dressed too elegantly besides. His black shirt was obviously tailored to his slender frame, and the waistcoat hugging his torso was embroidered with deep blue and white patterns that blended well with the rest of his clothing, making it appear as if he was wearing a piece of the night sky.

“Uh, yeah,” Hob belatedly realised that he still hadn't responded until the man was standing right in front of him. “Yeah, that's right,” he offered a smile that he hoped looked playful yet polite.

The man glanced at the raven before looking at Hob again. “She will not harm you. She is merely curious about unfamiliar faces.”

His voice was deeper than Hob had expected, and quieter. It made Hob think of weighted blankets on cold nights.

“Good to know.” Hob returned his handkerchief back to his breast pocket, and the man’s eyes followed the movement.

“Robert Gadling?” the man asked, his gaze meeting Hob’s after having seen the ring on his finger.

“Yes,” Hob instinctively straightened his posture. Something about hearing his name in that voice reminding him that he should conduct himself properly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir…?” he held out his palm.

The man regarded him for a moment before accepting the handshake. “Morpheus Apeiros. I believe we are indeed meant to get acquainted today.”

Hob felt as if his heart had dropped to his stomach and then proceeded to turn into fluttering butterflies. Of course, of course this would be Morpheus. This was his house, for God's sakes.

Their handshake was already done, but Hob could still feel the cool smooth skin against his palm, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that his hands hadn't been sweating despite his nerves.

Several thoughts were vying for Hob’s attention at once; embarrassment that he didn't recognise his betrothed, wondering if he had already made a fool of himself, relief that Morpheus didn't seem put off at all.

But one thought rang more clearly than the others, bringing a warmth to his face that had nothing to do with the weather.

I'm going to marry this man.

═════ ◈ ═════

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

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wylanzahn · 5 months ago

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How do you keep from Copy/Pasting existing Cultures into your Worlds?

Basically just as the title says, and I'm sure there's been pleeeeenty of discussion on the topic, but I'm genuinely curious what makes your cultures unique and original (especially when the modern aura of writing is "everything's been done"). Furthermore, is having a copy/paste culture a bad thing? For context, I'm primarily a Game Master (GM) who also on occasion writes as well as works in the TTRPG actualplay space. When you have an audience (whether friends or fans) is it necessarily a bad thing to have familiar locations, themes, and even characters that mimic real life? Can it be easier for an audience to just assume we're in "Ancient Rome" or "Habsburg controlled Austria"?

For me I do like creating totally original locations with their own weird political systems influenced by magic, gods, monsters, and anything else fantastical--BUT sometimes I find a setting is more interesting of just "what if Romans could directly interact with their deities?". For me I just find the idea of almost "alternate history" but in my uniquely fantastical setting interesting. However, I also understand that some people like genuinely different worlds with no trace of the real world left behind.

When creating unique cultures I try to combine elements to create something more unique. For example I'm currently working on the ancient periods of my current homebrew world, and specifically in a portion I haven't particularly worked on before. In Evrosea, a sort of "ancients world" where Greco-Roman culture lives on well into the medieval 15th Century (of course technology has changed and evolved) I find myself studying more ancient histories. I knew from before I fully began working on worldbuilding Erosea that there was some sort of "Roman Empire" which spread its tongue as a sort of lingua franca across the continent of Dulgren (aka why Common exists in my D&D world). Also originating from the region of Evrosea was the sorta monolithic pantheon of "new gods" (aka Catholicism). So I have the ideas of imperialism and religious importance in this region. So the very clear start was Rome itself, but how could I make this Rome unique? Well here's what I found from my research on Ancient Rome:

Many pre-settlers, and even contemporaries of Ancient Rome, in Italy were nomadic grazers and herders.

The Aeneid, which tells one of the many origin stories of Ancient Rome, ties in the ancient Greek tale of the Trojan War, and makes Rome the successors of Troy.

That many of their religious practices were tied up with the Senate (especially after the abolishment of the crown).

Finally, while perhaps never directly ruled by the Etruscans, their neighbors were much more confederate like and were similar in culture rather than being a unified people or kingdom.

Taking the information I found I twisted and jumbled much of this random history and constructed a group of nomads who controlled the fertile valleys of Uvemos (home region of the ancient Carinaens, my replacement for the Romans).

Many of these nomads worshipped similar sounding gods (if not outright the same gods), and most of them lived off the lands of Uvemos. Only a select few of whom ever settled into cities. However, long after the first nomads of Uvemos walked the hilly countryside arrived a band of pirates and raiders, terrors of the ancient world, many knew not their names, but they quickly accrued a nickname, "The Sea People" (see Sea Peoples on Wikipedia for more, TL;DR a bunch of random marauders who attacked or even helped cause the collapse of some Bronze Age Civilizations). One such pirate was said to be the Prince Laogonus, an exile from Apeiros, who was said to be a direct descendant of the God King Ulios himself. Laogonus settled down on the banks of Janian Sea in a small dirt settlement near to the roaming tribes of Uvemos. Many years later the small city of Carina was established as a blossoming trade hub by the many different tribes of Uvemians. Of these tribes was born a Chieftain's daughter, Aurora. Aurora was said to be descended from the god blood of Ulios, and when she prayed to her great grandsire on the eve of battle she was enveloped in holy light-- thus becoming the world's first cleric. Of her legacy were many rituals formed and practices established, and the civitas mille clericorum* was born.

*(civitas mille clericorum) meaning "city of a thousand clerics," named after the heavy religious undertones established by the first cleric Aurora, at least according to legend.

Super cool right?? I combined some other ideas than the ones I established such as the Sea People from the Collapse of the Bronze Age, as well as these kind of Shinto-like-beliefs in the Carinaen religion, which, to me at least, seems the most like what Ancient Roman beliefs would look like to us today (though I didn't really get to talk about in my blurb). I like taking existing pillars of cultures and extending them, now rather than just being a complete Roman rip-off there's more of this nomadic or tribal culture, at least to early Carinaen history, there's more of a nautical legacy (unlike Rome, who didn't establish a truly working navy up until the Punic Wars), and finally the city of Carina is a beacon for holy warriors and classes like Paladins and Clerics (again this is D&D so that's oriented towards that).

But tell me what you think, and how best do you come up with your fictional cultures/countries? Do you merely copy off of pre-existing cultures or do you fully work from the ground up? I'm super curious to hear what you all have to say!

I'm also tagging a couple friends since I'm curious of your responses @hessdalen-globe, @northernthiefcranberry, @kerghoulen, and the ever wonderful @somethingclevermahogony.

Also guys I need you to pull me out, I'm this close to dropping out of the arts and trying to get into Harvard to do Ancient Studies. Send Help.

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