bakerstreet | arranged marriage AU to scratch the itch.

arranged marriage AU to scratch the itch.

Arranged Marriage Turned More

To have and to hold, you said, till death do us part, all while the sharp, swinging pendulum of obligation hung overhead. But how could you have truly meant those words? This union has been tainted from the start, forever bearing the chains of an arranged marriage. It would be understandable if you couldn't bear to look at your new life partner, eternal reminder of your stolen future that they are, much less like them.
Much less love them...

Still, things can change.

You could realize that they are in the same boat as you or, that when compared to others around you,
they are the lesser of evils. Perhaps you even open up to the idea of a friendship; at the very least,
an alliance may be in order to become a power couple in a perilous world. From that innocent decision or sense of self-preservation, a new feelings sparks. Something like affection.

Something, you realize in the wake of speeding heartbeats, like love.

Will you acknowledge this? Can the two of you have a happily ever after - happier than if you'd met in another fashion - or will you hold firm in your distaste?

how to play.

- Everybody loves "couples forged by less-than-ideal circumstances" tropes!
- Comment with your character, prefs, all that good stuff.
- Reply to others.
- IDEC where you set your threads, it's wide open. Fantasy world with hairy hobbits, old-timey lands, future AUs, do a space marriage for all I care. I'm sure they're still getting married in Star Wars or whatever.

POSSIBLE REASONS FOR MARRIAGE:
① Station → You come from a royal, noble, or otherwise distinguished family who has chosen a suitable spouse for you.
② Feud → You are being married to put an end to the bitter enmity between your two families.
③ Economics → Your economic state and/or your station will improve through the union, though one of you may be marrying down.
④ Empire → You and your spouse are merging your businesses and/or property to create something more influential or profitable.
⑤ Tribute → You have been offered as a gift or appeasement, alternately you're the spoils of war.
⑥ Bloodline → Carrying on your distinguished family name has fallen to you and the equally well-bred spouse of your family's selection.
⑦ Disapproval → Your marriage has been arranged to keep you away from the person with whom you truly wish to be.

POSSIBLE SCENARIOS:
① First meeting → This is the very first time you're meeting your future spouse.
② Courtship → To get to know each other and encourage affection, your family has approved of you going on dates.
③ Engagement party → Be it a huge, formal affair or a small, intimate get together, you're celebrating (or pretending).
④ Wedding day → The big day!
⑤ Reception → The big party!
⑥ Wedding night → Every meme needs a smut prompt, right?
⑦ Honeymoon → Where will you go with your new spouse and what will you do there?

[ Since the other marriage meme disappeared, I guess it's okay to post this one? ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

That, I shall find out soon enough. I shall watch the records of prisoners, to see if any of the worshipping peoples are brought to the tower. And the tower's aether cannot be used for a summoning by anyone without royal blood, so a sudden increase in stores of crystals of any one element would also be a clue. Between them, so long as your foe be an eikon, we will know what. As far as when-

I want to say that you would be given ample time to recover, so as to make for better sport. But I cannot promise it. If he grows restless before you are ready, I shall try to find something else to consume his attention.

Edited 2022-02-01 20:24 (UTC)

[ Raha would know best about his grandfather's attention span. Luneth doesn't really know how long the man can just sit on an idea. He likely doesn't care about recovery time. The truth is, the only time that he likely has is the amount of time it will take to reset the stage. So they will just have to keep their ears to the ground, figuratively speaking. ]

What else could consume his attention?

[ The room is never truly quiet, between the hum of the crystal and Raha's frantic drum of a heartbeat. But he breathes in and holds his breath for a moment, and in that moment the room feels very quiet indeed.

Then he smiles again. Breathes out. And the moment ends. ]

The clones will prove sufficient for a while. They cannot fight eikons, as you can, but it comforts him, to watch a copy of himself fight and die. Or Phlegethon might be brought up from the labyrinth to perform for him. If we need time, I can always see that my cousins start scheming. They might try to steal you away, or have him killed, or any number of things. That will satisfy him a few days. Or-

-If I am summoned, know that he will not do me any harm. I will return, whole and well.

[ Well some of that doesn't sound too horrible. Though Luneth is not sure that Raha should manipulate his cousins into starting something. That could have risks of its own and the Viera isn't sure that he wants to chance being "stolen away."

What is the most alarm is the entire "if I am summoned... Whole and well." His ears perk up, now on full alert. ]

Raha?

[ What do you mean? ]

[ The absence of a true question of troublesome. It is hard to dodge giving a real answer with the use of exact words without some sort of question to give what seems like an answer to. ]

If I am at the tower, he prefers that I handle the clones. They respond well to me. Phlegethon, too. If I am summoned, it will be to bring them where he wishes them to go. Or to observe performances with him. Or perhaps to just wait for a long time until he decides he had no use for me after all. Nothing that will bring me any harm.

I apologise. I didn't mean to worry you - the opposite. I am safe. I will be safe.

[ Perhaps the Viera had answered this way on purpose. A vague question means that it can be interpreted by the other however they wish. Their answer is likely their truest. ]

I am uncertain if you are trying to convince me of this or attempting to convince yourself. From the time I have spent with you, this seems to be the case more often than not. You repeat these things over and over again as if they are some mantra. As if you are putting it into your mind to push all doubts out.

[ Okay so maybe he will come out and say it oops. ]

[ Luneth is good at saying things in troublesome ways. First he doesn't ask a real question. Then he only makes an observation, rather than claiming that he doesn't believe. ]

I truly will be unhurt. I dislike my time around him, but it is only dislike. Nothing worth complaining over, compared to everything else. At worst, I will spend a few days bored out of my mind. He will not lay a hand upon me, I swear. His advisor convinced him not to long ago.

[ There is absolutely something he isn't mentioning. Which is odd, considering how he's spoken unusually freely about the kind of defiance that anyone else might have been executed for ten times over. Sure would be a shame if the echo decided to inform Luneth about the Void despite his best efforts to keep is secret, sometime soon. ]

You seem convinced of at least that much...

[ Luneth doesn't know if he, himself is. This Emperor may change his mind at the drop of a hat. He doesn't know if he can trust that sort of unpredictability. ]

I suppose we will find this out in the days to come.

[ Tiredness and exhaustion is starting to pull him in. His body needs it now to recover. Raha has done an excellent job in healing him, but the blood loss and exertion are still very real stressors. ]

I am glad, that you would care enough to worry. But I will be well. Please, focus upon yourself.

[ In the next few days, Luneth's waking hours are largely consumed by activities that do not take him from his rest. Working on his Allagan letters. An explanation of the workings of the Libra spell. A few mentions of summoners in old records that havn't been deleted. A great deal of rest. No movements of noteworthy amounts of crystals to the tower. No movements of prisoners liable to be used for a summoning. He brings threads of arachne silk, each dyed a different shade, for Luneth to look them over and choose colours. If he's feeling well enough, the parts of the loom are ready to be assembled.

Twice, now he's lying down, he edges close to Luneth in his sleep. Not close enough to touch, but enough to feel his presence. Both times he apologises profusely when he wakes.

It happens- it's hard to understand the times of day here, with the crystal always glowing softly and the outside world hidden from anywhere but the throne room. But it happens in what feels like the early afternoon, as Luneth's recovery is almost done. For just a moment, the glow of the crystal walls flickers. Like something immense is drawing on its aether. Raha goes very, very still. Doesn't even breathe, at first, until he catches himself and smiles. ]

Ah. It seems I am being summoned.

[ If Luneth hadn't been something like sore and tired, he would have sat straight up at that, ears perked forward in slight alarm. Care? When had he implied...

Oh that is a rather disgruntled thought he has as he settles in for the evening. As sleep takes him and he falls into a pattern over the course of his recovery. He isn't really given the opportunity to get up and explore overmuch, the prince always having something to occupy his time or "requesting" that the Viera rests. There's always a new tome to attempt to read. Yarn and dyes to test the quality of. The Viera thinks that he is truly being kept busy for the sake of it.

Yet in the evenings, when true sleep is threatening to take him, Luneth notices that there is less indecisiveness in his sleeping position. He's bundled down in the blankets. That's how he catches Raha drifting ever closer. He doesn't say anything nor does he point it out. Raha is the one that offers apologies, but Luneth doesn't really need them. He figures that the prince is seeking comfort and contact from another that he has not received while being in this Tower. In that sense, Luneth understands. He doesn't do anything to correct it no matter how many times it happens.

The day that the crystal itself begins to flicker is the first one he's actually up and moving around. Seeing as the pieces of the loom are ready to be assembled and he has all of the yarn in the colors that he needs... Luneth figures that he will start today. There's only a pause in his "routine" when he notices Raha tense up. When the sound of his breathing and heartbeat shift. ]

Raha...

[ Okay so maybe he does care enough to be concerned. Enough to worry. ]

[ There's a shift in the aether. Not just in the tower's stored aether, but in the air around them. Something draining it away, like the casting of a powerful magic without the release of the aether that follows it. ]

I will be back, safe and whole. Soon, with luck. But if it takes a few days, you'll at least have time to recover.

[ He sets down his book, because of course he was reading, and sets about the work of making himself presentable. ]

You're well enough to prepare your food, yes? If not, the nodes can do it.

[ Usually the ambient aether isn't an issue for Luneth. Viera may be sensitive to large concentrations of it, but with the way that it is dispersed in the Tower, he hasn't had issue. Now he does, taking a moment to rub at his nose and temples - the surge and flow just a bit much for him at the current moment. ]

Let us hope that it does not take days before you return.

[ Luneth can't even really watch the prince move about the room and prepare himself. No, he focuses on being able to tolerate this shift. ]

I will manage.

Let us hope.

[ He isn't sure how he feels about that hope, in truth. Time locked in the void is terrible, maddening, soul-rending- but he knows that when his grandfather sees fit to release him, he will return whole. And that time is time that Luneth does not have to fight, is not being harmed, will not be in danger. Time that his grandfather can be amused by something simple and painless and not turn his changing moods upon anything else.

Really, the only kind thing to hope for would be for that time to last forever.

He leaves. The strange movements of aether lessen in intensity but settle into something constant. The tower and air being drained of it slowly. Something consuming and consuming and consuming.

And then the ring tightens around Luneth's finger, followed by what are almost the telltale pains of the beginning of a vision. Almost, but not quite. This isn't the echo choosing to reveal something. It's something prompted artificially. ]

[ It takes a moment, after Raha leaves, for Luneth to once again find his bearings. He shakes his head, as if there is a tickling about his ears. An itch that he can't quite reach. Once it settles, he takes the parts for the loom and enters into the study adjacent to the main room. Today is the day that he is going to spend putting it together and starting this work.

Which is what the Viera is doing - laying out all the pieces - when he feels the ring about his finger. At first he believes that he is imagining it. Then he knows for a fact he is not when an attempt to remove it only makes it tighten more.

Then comes the pain blooming in his head. An intricate web that splinters as his vision starts to swim. It does feel different, somehow, but Luneth is not educated enough in the Echo to be able to know. ]

[ And he sees himself. Bare and wide-eyed, perfectly still, staring forward into nothing. Somewhere distant, the royal scientist discusses viera and their sensitivity to aether, his new findings on the effects of its complete absence upon them. ]

I am here.

[ Raha reaches up to touch the viera's face. They are in the throne room, but the air of it is split open. And inside the great wound in the fabric of the world is nothing. Nothing at all. Slowly, Raha coaxes the viera's face downward. To him, instead of to the great void before them. To his own face, soft and smiling and adoring. ]

You are safe. I am here with you.

[ He's more affectionate with this Luneth than he is the one back in their rooms. When he takes one hand from his face, he strokes it down his side. Over ribs and waist and narrow hips and thigh and then back up to begin again. Over and over. Slowly, softly, until the shock of being brought into a room stripped of aether fades at least enough for the viera to breathe.

He turns to look at the portal, then back to the viera. Takes his hand. ]

Please, come with me.

[ And step by slow, agonising step, he leads the other Luneth into the portal. It's slow. Difficult. Every few steps he has to stop to coax the viera out of his state of shock and into a more compliant state of exhausted confusion. And it closes behind them.

Inside the void, their slow progress continues. A few steps, and then the absence of aether freezes the viera in his tracks. Something is grabbing at them, now. Holding on to Raha's ankles. Raking long claws into the other Luneth's. He keeps leading them forward as his tactics grow less and less effective at calming the viera.

But they're so close now, just a little farther.

He takes the other Luneth's hand and, slowly, guides it up to one of his pinned ears. Pushes its fingers into place, to let the viera unpin it. ]

You are safe. You are safe. You are safe-

[ It earns them a few more precious steps. Enough that the hands grasping at them stop, chased away by the presence of something greater.

The Cloud of Darkness is great and terrible. It reaches forward, and each of its clawed fingers are long as Raha is tall. Raha squeezes the other Luneth's hand before letting go as the greatest of the voidsent princes lifts the viera delicately, cradling him in both hands as he falls into that paralysed state one last time.

And then it closes its fingers tightly. There is no cry of pain, only the muffled sound of something crunching.

And Raha watches, perfectly still, as it licks the last of the viera's aether from its fingers then reaches to stroke his own face with a single, gentle fingertip. ]

[ It is a strange thing to observe... He is looking at a face that is his, but also very much not. It does not have the character that Thivir does. Not the look of age or experience behind the teal orbs that Raha is gazing into. It is, perhaps, one of the times where he wishes that he had not been given such a "blessing" or a "gift." Where it truly feels as more of a curse that so many believe it to be.

Thivir finds himself wondering, in the space of being able to actually put together a coherent thought, what the purpose of all this is. No doubt that this is what the blood had been collected for. How some secrets of his people are to be revealed. However this clone, this copy, is not born of the Wood so it likely could never have hoped to hear it. He knows not of how this all works - if memories are transferred and if this creature is just as much him as he is himself...

But Thivir is forced to continue watching. As Raha treats this Luneth with tenderness. With care and a gentleness that most assuredly is going to betray the brutality or the real gravity of the situation at hand. Thivir is clueless as he observes, trapped in a forced vision, entering the portal to nothingness. A void. He cannot know the true sensations of the others present in the vision, but he can sense their emotions. They are conveyed just as clearly as he can hear the voices.

Then it is with a sinking realization that it comes. Knowing what this clone is to be used for the moment that this creature of the great void materializes. Thivir knows now what is to happen and he can't even look away as this Luneth is fed to the creature. Now he sees why Raha had tensed. Why he had stopped breathing and attempted to control his panic. This is what Raha is being used for -

Feeding a creature that Thivir does not have a name for. ]

[ The aether has returned to normal, by the time that the creature's hands wrap around Raha at the end of the vision, idly petting at his unpinned ear. The tower is still. Drained, slightly, compared to before, but largely as it was.

There is the same telltale surge of aether the next day. Smaller this time, quicker. A portal sized to bring a miqo'te home, not to allow the Cloud of Darkness passage should the sacrifice fail. Two bells later, he returns. Requests the date from the closest node (A day. Just a day. Just a day, this time) and-

-and he doesn't really have a place to fall apart anymore, sharing his quarters as he does now. So he just smiles. ]

Apologies for my absence. Has your recovery been continuing apace?

[ Of course the Viera is out for an indiscernible amount of time. He's not really sure how many hours he's spent lying upon the floor. Even waking is disorienting. Body too tired and aching to want or care to move. This... This has taken a harsher toll on his body that the Echo normally would. His eyes ache. Head feels like there is a vice upon it still. Luneth is exhausted and can barely pick himself up. So he doesn't.

He's not able to get to the loom this day. Instead the Viera just stays where he is, miserable and too many thoughts racing through his mind to process. The truth is, he doesn't know how he feels about what he has just seen. Is this why the prince is so hard on himself? Why he thinks that he is a part of the problem as well? Yet he had shown such care, trying to make those last moments as peaceful as can be instead of riddled with fear and terror. No doubt the prince does have a kind soul. One that truly isn't meant for this place. He, too, is a prisoner...

Luneth finally manages to pull himself off of the ground, if only to put himself right back into the bed. He can... Absolutely work on things tomorrow. Thus he finishes out the evening just resting. Truly resting because that's all he can do.

The surge of aether wakes him. Luneth doesn't know if this means that the portal is opening for another sacrifice or if it is to return the wayward prince home. Of course the answer comes in the form of a door opening and shutting. Of a fake smile planted on an exhausted face. At this time Luneth still hasn't stirred from the bed, though now he supposes he should. Perhaps -

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't find that he can. Instead he slips out of the blankets and sheets ( which are all tangled up and one good look should tell Raha that Luneth hadn't stayed on his own side ) and walks over to the prince. There's no answer given. Nothing is provided except for a hand reaching out for Raha's. A gentle yet firm tugging and dragging the Miqo'te into that bathroom - the one that hardly is used for bathing save for Luneth.

His legs feel hollow. Achy. As if everything is on pins and needles. Yet drag the princeling inside he does. Because in the next moment he is taking Raha by the hips and hoisting him onto the open space of the countertop. Water running, there is a cloth dipping into the warmth and one of the nonscented soaps. Luneth then gently takes hold of Raha's chin and begins the process of washing all of that make up off.

All without saying a word. ]

[ He lets Luneth lead him. What else can he do? He should ask that he return to resting, he can see how much even the process of walking from the bed to the washroom seems to be taking out of him. He should ask again how his recovery is going, if he needs anything to be tended to, for all the aether he has to spare right now. He should do so very many things, but he's tired.

It's a poor excuse to take tenderness that he doesn't deserve. Not from Luneth, of all possible people. He'll let his conscience ache over it later. For the moment he sighs with something like relief when Luneth's hands fall to his hips. Lets his head loll forward into the touch of the cloth as he washes away the remains of his powder in the gentlest, most careful, most inefficient way that he could possibly do so. ]

[ Luneth is rather meticulous. Wiping away the powder with ever swipe and rinse of the washcloth in the water. He doesn't know why these people think that drones are better suited for this sort of thing. There's something powerful about the feel of things against one's skin. The tactile stimulation.

When that is over, he switches the water's temperature from warm to cold. Rinses the towel out before placing it at the back of Raha's neck. Because in the next breath the Viera is working through red hair. Removing pins and roaming over those ears to free them and rub some life back into them. When it's all finished and set aside, that hand falls back under Raha's chin and the Viera lifts it a bit to look him in the eye. ]

Call your drone and stay put.

[ For the eye drops. That's all that Luneth says before he walks back to the tub. He begins to fill it, testing the temperature to ensure that it is just right. Then he walks back over to Raha...

And begins the process of undoing buttons and clasps of the prince's attire. ]

[ He understands, vaguely. That this is the healing. This is Luneth doing as he did before, trying to soothe and close wounds as gently as he can. Except that he has no wounds to close. He is unhurt. He is never hurt. Understanding makes it feel still less correct.

He does as he is asked, calling the medical node over. It checks his eyes to dose and dilute the eyedrops properly- after so long in a dark place, where his eyes would have been dilated naturally, he only needs a little. And it doesn't take a lot of thought, even exhausted as he is, to put together what filling the tub and starting to undo the fastenings of his clothes means.

He catches Luneth's hand. Curls his fingers around it. ]

I do not- I do not object to this. [ In truth, hot water? It's not what he's used to, but it sounds better than most other things, right now. The Void was not cold, the Void is not anything, but warmth sounds- good. ] But it is unnecessary. I swear, it is unnecessary.

So if you continue- please, I would sooner- I would sooner you touch me only because you wish to.

[ It's a cruel thing to ask, he knows, when he has over and over disguised his own wish for touch as concern or necessity or recklessness. But he can only bear so many sins, and tricking Luneth into kindness after leading him into the Cloud's throat would be one too many. ]

[ Not all wounds are physical. There are things that wound the soul. Injuries that cannot be seen by the naked eye. The things that Raha is being forced to do - because he cannot be doing them willingly - inure and wound just as readily as claw or fang. One can't treat those by typical means. Only care, patience, and compassion can.

So when the prince catches Luneth's hand, teal meets red. Locked in a gaze, even if the Viera's expression is somewhat unreadable. Such is their kind's curse. ]

Hush.

[ Just that word. Only the one. He pauses only to give those hands a squeeze in return, gently setting them sound on the cool surface of the sink's open area. Then the Viera goes right back to undoing the ties and fastenings, pushing material aside. ]

Lest you forget, I touched you first. [ It had been Luneth that had initiated first true contact. Holding Raha's face and wiping away the powder for all to see. He had done so publicly and has not exactly shied away from it since. ] You say it is unnecessary and I am inclined to disagree.

[ He's not sure if he should mention that he knows. That he knows everything and still feels the need to do this. Luneth is not sure that it would make things better, only worse. Thus he sighs, focusing on the task and removing the prince's robes. ]

I do this because I wish to and because you need it.

[ He moves to facilitate the removal, once Luneth says those words. Goes as quiet as Luneth is, shrugging away layers of cloth.

Beneath the robes he is, as he had claimed he would be, entirely unhurt. Perhaps a slight hint of purple in the skin at his fingertips, but that will fade soon enough. In truth, he looks as if he's never been hurt in his life. Not so much as the tiniest of scars, as much as that can mean when he's proven himself a capable healer. Or freckles, for that matter, or anything that might suggest he's ever been in sunlight in his life any time other than the brief hours he spends in the throne room. The markings beneath his eyes are the only real marks on his body.

It's a little unnerving.

His nudity, at least, doesn't seem to bother him too much. Perhaps because Luneth himself has never seemed too concerned with it. Perhaps because he's only recently been dealing with a Luneth freshly cultured and it would be stupid and selfish to worry about his own nudity in comparison. Perhaps it's simply the one thing he isn't too concerned about.

Whatever the reason, he only leans forward as the last of his clothing falls away, resting his head on Luneth's collarbone, loose hair spilling over his shoulders. ]

Thank you.

[ It would, perhaps, be a little unnerving if that had been something Luneth thought to concern himself with. He doesn’t. The cursory glances given to Raha’s body are only done so that the Viera may finish his self-appointed task. Truthfully, this is what he would expect of the prince, given what he has seen of the other’s lifestyle. It is not one that leads to any features of the body being marred or blemishes blooming across the surface.

There is a pause, of course. It comes when he feels Raha against his collarbone. Ears twitch and hands still. This is… Far different than clutching at hands. Than fussing with powders or taking a hold of one’s face. His ears slowly move forward and then down. They repeat this motion a couple of times, out of sync. As if Luneth is the one being indecisive now.

Then a decision is made. It is to reach into those red tangles and to comb them out. With his fingers. ]

There is, and never will be, a need to do such a thing. I need not your thanks to do what is right. What is decent.

[ It is different. It's seeking comfort, knowingly. For a second he thinks it was a mistake, that he's overstepped (he's overstepped a thousand times). Luneth goes still and he freezes in turn, preparing to apologise or move away, to just bathe and forget that this happened. But then there are fingers in his hair, and the long sigh of relief that he lets out almost becomes a purr at the end. ]

Because I wish to, then, if there is no need. Thank you.

[ It's pleasant, the feeling of fingers moving through his hair. Comforting. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject