#honestly i may have gone ham on this one so plz dont expect the same length for all the other drabbles ૮꒰ ˃̣̣̥ ◠ ˂̣̣̥ ꒱ა

[xianyoon]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⚜️ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

wriothesley x @haliyarobin. prompt ノ beauteous a night to remember ; selfship event.

“Do you understand the conditions of this agreement you sign?” They ask – eyes searching for any form of discrepancy – any possible risk – until their satisfaction, and the promise that you will be taken care of, is clear. 

He will make sure of it.  

“I understand. You have my word – he will be taken care of well.” 

Wriothesley will make sure of it. He swears; political marriages are easy to swear on – as easy as helping you into a carriage, leaving a touch of himself longer on you, anything, to convince the laughable public that they are just another pawn in your families’ games. Being engaged to the duke of all people; well – that would mean everything in your family’s eyes. 

“Are you quite comfortable?” Wriothesley asks, seated next to you in the carriage, back to his manor – new life awaits in the old walls that stand tall, ivies crawling up and out. Perhaps they want to leave just as much as you do. 

Your lack of energy does not go unnoticed, you muse. 

“I’m alright.”

“Are you sure? I would be most happy to stop. Perhaps some fresh air would do us both good.” 

He seemed too caring for a political marriage, you first think. The multitudes of suitors your parents brought – that you waved away – seemed just as dispassioned as you in this game of social chess high society loved to play. Wriothesley, however? 

You sigh loudly, and he snaps up at the bemoaned noise you make. 

“Are you very sure you’re alright? Forgive me for my incessant badgering, but surely you must be displeased with something, or perhaps something has been troubling you, should you continue to act like this.” 

“I’m alright, thank you.” You look out the window sullenly. Wriothesley looks almost pained at your half-truth. 

“I apologise. I understand this marriage isn’t any easier on you.”  

“You must know that I never wanted this.” 

“I know.” There is a blazing anger you feel at that – he knew that you never wanted to get married – and yet he chains you down.

“Then why did you sign the papers? If you know so well what I feel, why did you not hesitate? Am I simply just a prince who needs saving, a– a simple piece in your game of chess that you can move around?"  "I am sure you find me a suitable veneer for your plans, do you find me to be wrong?” You look him in the eye sharply. 

“It is not that–” 

“Then what?” You snap. 

Wriothesley, for once in his life, is taken aback. And perhaps, for once in your life, you wished to have kept quiet. 

“Perhaps it is the reason that I know I am better than other suitors your parents have so-called lovingly lined up for you.” He starts quietly, looking at his boots, and you want to scoff. Continue to talk about caring– pretend to care. An actor can never fool another. 

“Perhaps it is the reason that every time I look at you, you are exhausted. I say this with all good intentions – but you are hanging by a thread with having to put yourself in the spotlight, parade by your father’s arm to be handed off to the next man like show cattle.” 

“...And perhaps, it is because I know I can put you out of your misery.” Your breath hitches – he is inches close, millimetres away, a wolf ready to devour. He is not like the other men, you remind yourself. He has brought enough trouble upon himself to be engaged to you. 

“Don’t do this to me. You know how much I value my freedom. I beg of you.” You whisper, eyes locking onto the collar of his dress shirt. 

“This is freedom. You must understand, without me – you would have been betrothed to some worthless man, a man with no titles to his name. I have a title and I am willing to put it to good use for you.” 

A man willing to fight for you – you are nothing to him now, but he must be everything to you.

“All I ask is that you put down your gun, and I will for mine. This relationship is yours to control. Should you desire for me to be more affectionate, I shall reach for your hand under the table. If you wish to have a day to yourself, I am happy to lock myself in the study so you may have time alone.” 

“Why?” is all you can utter. 

“Because I want to see you happy, Robin.” Wriothesley steels himself. 

“Perhaps what I want is to see you live free from the shackles that they hold the lock of. Whether you desire this marriage is not the subject of my curiosity and earnestness. You are worth more than that, and the key is in my hands.”