#i lvoe interpreting hamin as a spicy hot mess who's making it all up on the spot so there u go he's a spicy hot mess who's making it all up

[jiyel]

happy holidays to @mer-birdman​! what’s up ira i’m your secret santa for the @7kppsecretsanta thing! hope u enjoy even though I’m posting barely in time for christmas! prompt: delegates & april fool’s day (this doesn’t fit into the canon timeline i have no idea what’s happening) (this doesn’t even have a bunch of the delegates i’m so sorry)

The Day of Fools, the Day of Tricksters

1.

Lyon checks the calendar, a fluttering sense of panic and a sour tang rising up in the back of his throat. He runs a finger across the numbers as he counts the days, muttering under his breath, and—

“Oh no,” he says softly, horrified. Oh no. He has even less time than he thought he did. Today’s the last day he has before every bit of order within this castle breaks down, before chaos and anarchy deck the halls and shrieking peals of laughter echo through the air.

He gathers up his things, shoving books and scrolls and notes in his bag with a brisk, hurried pace, rushing past the table where he’d spent most of his time at the Summit, rushing towards his one refuge, the one place he knows will remain untouched in the coming day of madness that he has neither the energy nor the desire to brave.

Lyon makes his way into the very heart of the library to the fort that he’d been carefully constructing for the past few days. Here, no one will find him.

No one will drag him out to socialize and converse with people whose minds are always a few steps behind, with people whose thoughts are always caught up in gossip and intrigue and secrets. No one will play tricks on him and turn him into the fool that he feels like he is at court. No one will dump glitter in his hair or salt in his tea or, or do anything to him.

Lyon nestles into the space he’d carved out for himself and closes his eyes, glad to be away from it all. He has enough to hold out here for a week, definitely enough to outlast the twenty-four hours of pranks and suffering that he knows is coming.

He’s certain that some among the delegates will enjoy the Day of Fools. And he’s okay with that, mostly. They can have their fun. They can have all the fun they want, just as long it’s far away from him, his books, and the quiet of the library.

2.

Avalie drops a pair of sugar cubes into her already sickly sweet tea, a delicate smile tilting up the corners of her mouth, and she thinks: Oh, I am going to have fun with this.

She had thought the Summit would be amusing, a diversion, something that would keep her on her toes, but no. What she had been expecting was drama, politics, the best of the best of the best competing against each other for love and reputation and alliances. What she got, for the most part, were sweaty-handed, fumbling men who couldn’t take their eyes off her mouth, her neck, her hands and waist.

But the next day promises much more: opportunities to toy with her fellow delegates, an evershifting landscape of chaos, and chances to observe the true creativity and cleverness of those at the Summit, all with a minimal risk of permanent maiming or death!

“Lady Avalie?” Gisette asks as she butters a muffin with a small, sharp blade and surgical precision.

“Yes, Princess Gisette?” Avalie says, her mind a million miles away and whirling with plans and ideas. She could, oh she could move all the furniture just a bit to the left— she’s done that before, it’s fairly effective. Or… something else?

“I was just wondering if you were feeling alright,” says Gisette, perfectly pleasant and perfectly nasty. “You look a little out of sorts. Is the stress and the pressures of the Summit getting to you, Lady Avalie?”

“I’m perfectly alright, thank you for asking,” Avalie responds, smiling sweetly. She could always resort to something basic like the classic salt and sugar switch, but that required no finesse at all. No grace! No elegance! She sips her tea, and says, “I’m just thinking. It’s quite a common look on most people, although considering the company you tend to keep, I’d understand if you didn’t recognize it immediately.”

Gisette raises her eyebrows at that and takes a sip of her tea. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remedy that. I wouldn’t suppose you would be available tomorrow, Lady Avalie?”

Avalie dips her head apologetically. “I’m afraid I’ll be rather occupied all day. A shame, since your company is always such a pleasure, Princess. Although my schedule is a little less busy for the rest of the week, so perhaps then?”

She could fake a murder! The planning and coordination it would take… the materials and the knowledge… And in such a tight timeframe as well. What a challenge! Avalie hides a catlike smile behind her cup of tea.

“I can’t wait.”

3.

Hamin hums as he surveys the rings and necklaces he’s got all laid out on the vanity. It’s a big day, a Big Day, and he’s got to be all appropriately dolled up for it.

He holds up a shiny gold ring embedded with dozens of tiny rubies. Or maybe it was paste? He shrugs and throws it over his shoulder. “Boring.”

It’s the Day of Tricksters, which is objectively the funnest and funniest day out of the whole year, and as the Prince of Pirates, Hamin has to live it up and be just as flashy. No, flashier. More’s always better.

But fashion aside, Hamin’s been looking forward to today for ages. Well, more like a couple of weeks, but with all the damn etiquette lessons his stuffy butler’d been hammering into his head, it had felt like years.

He’s honestly so excited he can’t see straight, not that he ever could, in the first place, really, but yeah. It’ll all be like a breath of fresh air, like that first gasping gulp of good, beautiful air you get just when you think you’re going to drown to death under an unforgiving sea of uptight nobles and salad forks, and what a poor death that would be.

Hamin slips on his rings and necklaces, admiring his tacky jewelry and flashy, colorful scarves in the mirror before sliding out the door with his supplies and into the hall. He whistles as he walks, and he’s whistling up until he crashes into someone else.

“Oh, oof,” the person mutters, sounding just a bit like a kicked puppy. He looks up and Hamin recognizes him. It’s the Arlish earl, Emmet or something. Emmet or something blinks wide blue eyes up at Hamin and says, stumbling over his words a bit, “I’m so sorry! Are you alright, Prince Hamin? Or, uh, Hamin? If that’s what you prefer?”

“Hamin is fine.” He grins and rocks back on his heels, subtly kicking his bag of glitter, gunpowder, and various other things behind him. “I’m not much of a prince by your countries standards anyway, Sunshine.” Ah, yes, the tried-and-true tactic of giving someone a nickname to avoid admitting that you have no idea what they’re called. Classic.

“Well then, Hamin, I’m glad!” Sunshine smiles at him before glancing downwards in confusion. “What’s that behind your back, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Hamin feels his casual smirk tighten in panic. “It’s, uh, it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’m bringing to my cousin, who I should be seeing now, so I’m going to get going.”

He’s preparing to dash away, one foot already sliding out with exaggerated slowness when Sunshine stops and says, “Oh! Are you planning a prank?”

Hamin turns back and says, slow, “That depends.” He can see a glint of mischief, of interest in those pretty, blue eyes, and he’s bored. Hamin’s willing to let someone in on his game if Sunshine is interested. He’s got nothing to lose and a partner-in-crime to gain, and he’s played worse odds before.

“Depends on whether I would be interested in helping out?” Sunshine says hopefully, cocking his head. “Because I, uh, would. I really would be interesting in lending you a hand.” He gives Hamin a thumbs up and beams.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Hamin shrugs, beckoning the other guy to come closer.

“Wait, really?” Sunshine’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, really,” Hamin says, “So come closer so I can tell you what I’m planning.”

Sunshine nods and leans in as Hamin, in a low, conspiratorial voice, whispers, “So I’ve been messing around in the days leading up to this. Little things. Glitter in hair, salt in tea, little firecrackers in corners you wouldn’t expect, you know, the basics. But that was all just preparing for my grand finale, which is like, a combination of all those, but more.”

“The more the merrier!” Sunshine chimes in.

“Exactly.” Hamin nods approvingly and slings an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “C’mon. Walk with me.”

7.

Penelope watches Cordelia knot the rope with strong, sure fingers, and feels her heart flutter in her chest.

Cordelia was always so strong and capable, so smart and polite. Penelope wishes so much that her heart aches that she could be like her, or something like that. Probably. Maybe?

“-And you pull it through this loop here and tighten it to finish,” finishes Cordelia, her hands following through with a smooth kind of grace that Penelope can’t take her eyes away from.

“Um, yeah!” Penelope says as she tries to pretend that she was totally paying attention to Cordelia’s lesson on ‘How to Set Up a Snare Trap Prank for Dummies,’ and not, well, you know, Cordelia herself. “It’s very impressive how you know all this, Cordelia! How did you learn how to do this?” She beams nervously at her friend.

Thankfully, Cordelia smiles back. “I learned back… back home, in Hise. We all learn how to tie knots as children, for the nets and the rigging. And the traps,” she pauses and her eyes flit downwards, avoiding Penelope’s. “I learned how to rig traps when I took up embroidery.”

Embroidery…? Snares…? Penelope’s confusion must’ve shown on her face since Cordelia winces and carries on her explanation.

“In Hise, sewing is a common skill. But for a family so tied up in piracy rather than trading or craftsmanship, using that skill for something other than repairing clothes or sails is, well it’s a bit embarrassing and shameful. So when I took up an interest in embroidery, there were quite a few people around my age who took offense to that. They followed me around, pestering me about it, until I decided enough was enough and caught them all in traps and left them hanging to teach them a lesson.”

Penelope feels her jaw drop a little. Cordelia really was an amazing person. Penelope never knew that she had such a side to her, but instead of scaring off Penelope, it just made Cordelia all the more interesting and clever. “Cordelia, that was very brave of you!” Penelope says, her cheeks flushing as she babbles. “I could never have done something like that.”

Cordelia flushes and says with faltering composure, “Thanks. I mean, thank you, Penelope, but it really wasn’t much.”

“Oh, but it seems like quite a lot to me,” says Penelope. “What happened to those people afterwards? You let them down right after, right?”

Cordelia stops and nods slowly. She smiles, her eyes flicking away. “Yes. I definitely did.”

Penelope beams, and pauses. She and Cordelia whip their heads around in unison to the distant sound of an explosion.

Penelope gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my God! What was that?” She turns to see Cordelia groan and press a hand to her forehead.

“Don’t let it worry you, Penelope,” Cordelia says, her hand still pressed to her face. “It’s just my cousin.”