[ The problem with armistice, Graves finds, is deciding on a mutually acceptable show of faith; itself a tenuous display that has the potential to be a colossal failure as much as it can be a shining example for the generations of warring factions to come.
Credence Barebone, the oldest son of the family that has been locked in bitter quarrel with Graves' own for generations, is offered to him like a lamb to the slaughter. A spoil of war, one of his advisors whisper surreptitiously, thinking that he doesn't hear. Graves, who does not usually deal in the trade of humans like they're chattel, has half a mind to politely decline, but the words die in his throat when he sees him. Pale-skinned, beautiful, and obviously a boy they had kept in consideration of this moment. An exquisite jawline, a sensuous mouth, and bold cheekbones that come together to form an unconventionally lovely face. His is one no one will forget in a hurry.
Graves offers gold in turn for the family to rebuild, and this is how the armistice proceeds, peacefully and with distrust on both sides. He takes Credence as his lawfully wedded consort and spouse, the symbolic joining of two houses -- and he thinks cynically of battles fought in domestic contexts, if the young man doesn't kill him in his sleep first.
He doesn't put it past them, but ever the gentlemen, he accords them -- especially Credence -- the required courtesies. The ceremony is promptly concluded, the knot officially tied and the agreement sealed, and it's deep in the night when Graves finally gets time to himself instead of simply playing host. The idea of entertaining a family like the Barebones is profoundly unsettling, a newfound duty he doesn't look forward to, but when the alternative is protracted fighting at the expense of progress and prosperity, the choice is obvious.
He makes his way to his sleeping chambers tonight, having made sure that his new husband (what a strange, word; Graves had always believed he would never be tied down, and here he is, with a ring on his finger and sharing the large expanse of the castle with the young prince) is adequately attended to, his every need met. Graves knows he doesn't personally need to be present up until the inevitable consummation, and he knocks lightly before he enters. Another courtesy, even if it's well within his rights to enter without announcing himself. He's still dressed in elegantly grand robes from earlier, but he's shedding the outer robe, handing it off to one of the manservants.
They stay silent, eyes averted, but diligently attend to every need. It's only the first night, and Graves would be lying if he says that he knows what to expect. This is new territory, uncharted, and it will be most unfortunate if Credence is hiding a knife underneath all of that. ]
proscribed. (royalty)
Credence Barebone, the oldest son of the family that has been locked in bitter quarrel with Graves' own for generations, is offered to him like a lamb to the slaughter. A spoil of war, one of his advisors whisper surreptitiously, thinking that he doesn't hear. Graves, who does not usually deal in the trade of humans like they're chattel, has half a mind to politely decline, but the words die in his throat when he sees him. Pale-skinned, beautiful, and obviously a boy they had kept in consideration of this moment. An exquisite jawline, a sensuous mouth, and bold cheekbones that come together to form an unconventionally lovely face. His is one no one will forget in a hurry.
Graves offers gold in turn for the family to rebuild, and this is how the armistice proceeds, peacefully and with distrust on both sides. He takes Credence as his lawfully wedded consort and spouse, the symbolic joining of two houses -- and he thinks cynically of battles fought in domestic contexts, if the young man doesn't kill him in his sleep first.
He doesn't put it past them, but ever the gentlemen, he accords them -- especially Credence -- the required courtesies. The ceremony is promptly concluded, the knot officially tied and the agreement sealed, and it's deep in the night when Graves finally gets time to himself instead of simply playing host. The idea of entertaining a family like the Barebones is profoundly unsettling, a newfound duty he doesn't look forward to, but when the alternative is protracted fighting at the expense of progress and prosperity, the choice is obvious.
He makes his way to his sleeping chambers tonight, having made sure that his new husband (what a strange, word; Graves had always believed he would never be tied down, and here he is, with a ring on his finger and sharing the large expanse of the castle with the young prince) is adequately attended to, his every need met. Graves knows he doesn't personally need to be present up until the inevitable consummation, and he knocks lightly before he enters. Another courtesy, even if it's well within his rights to enter without announcing himself. He's still dressed in elegantly grand robes from earlier, but he's shedding the outer robe, handing it off to one of the manservants.
They stay silent, eyes averted, but diligently attend to every need. It's only the first night, and Graves would be lying if he says that he knows what to expect. This is new territory, uncharted, and it will be most unfortunate if Credence is hiding a knife underneath all of that. ]
Is everything to your satisfaction?