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Chapter Text

Tony had been betrothed since about two months after his birth. He said 'about' because that's when the official treaty was signed, cementing his fate, but they'd been in talks over it for months while his mother was pregnant with him. Everyone had already known what his fate would be, before they knew his name or what sex he was.

If he'd been born a woman, then fine, he'd be able to give the Crown Prince children. If not, then it wasn't a problem because the two Princes were twins, and in the eyes of the Kingdom of Brookliana, that made the second Prince's children just as legitimate as the Crown Prince's-- whoever had a child first, that child would be considered heir to the throne, no matter which Prince had fathered them. It was strange to think about because things were decidedly not that way in Manhatten, but because Brookliana was willing to do it, King Howard agreed.

Tony had known, his entire life, that he would marry the Crown Prince, James. He had known that he would be spending the rest of his life in Brookliana once he came of age. He grew up with the knowledge the same way that he knew Mother didn't much care what he did, as long as he was safe, and Father didn't care what he did as long as he was quiet and didn't have to hear about it later-- which meant Tony wasn't supposed to get in trouble. He knew that his brothers and sister didn't like him, and he knew that he'd be going to Brookliana to be married as soon as he turned twenty.

It was a fact of life.

Because it was a fact of life, it meant that he accepted it when he was a child and tried to get out of it when he was a teenager. He'd protested especially once he learned that he was supposed to be a virgin when he got married. Tony risked their entire alliance if he got caught having sex with someone else; Howard had made it clear that he wasn't taking any risks when it came to the alliance, and Tony learned that there was no loophole in the wording of the treaty. Then he accepted it. Tony flirted with anyone that caught his eye, but he didn't entertain the idea that it would ever turn into more.

Prince James was his future. Brookliana was his future. That might be set in stone, but Tony would be damned if he spent that entire time being useless. He read every book they had about Brookliana. He practiced their language every day until he could read an entire book in it without having to pause to look up a word. He learned about their culture and what would be expected of him as the spouse of the Crown Prince. Their books were a little old, but outdated information was better than no information so long as he was aware of it. 

He decided that he was not only going to meet those expectations, but he was going to exceed them. Stark's were not merely 'good enough'. He would be an expert; he would be the best. He would be wonderful enough that Prince James wanted to marry him.

He was sixteen when he decided that. He'd received sword fighting training befitting his station, but Brookliana emphasized their warriors in a way Tony wasn't familiar with. He spent countless hours training, calling in other country's sword masters so he would be well rounded. Everyone thought he was wasting his time, but he ignored the whispers.

At seventeen, he realized that he'd had no correspondence with his future husband. "Am I allowed to write to him?" he asked his mother one day.

"Of course, Anthony." Mother refused to call him Tony, despite repeated requests on his part; he no longer mentioned it to her. "Though I don't see why you would want to. They're rather uncivilized in Brookliana; there's nothing he could tell you that you haven't already discovered in your preparations."

Telling her that he wanted to learn about Prince James wouldn't help, so he said, "I'm looking for as painless a marriage as I can manage."

"I have every faith in you," she said, smiling at him. Then she told him how to address the letter so it would reach the Prince.

He was scared to leave, but he also couldn't wait to get out of here. He hated this place, and everyone hated him. Everyone would probably hate him in Brookliana, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with his father there. Or his brother. Or his younger sister, who had recently decided that he wasn't worth paying any attention if he was going to be leaving in a couple years.

He sat down to write the letter, wondering if he should act more innocent and excited, or formal. He decided to go with formal, since he needed to make a good impression, and everything he knew about Prince James was shrouded in anti-Brooklin sentiments or soldier's tall tales.

Rumors about Prince James were in abundance. He was, after all, the Crown Prince, and people liked to gossip. Soldiers especially, and Prince James was rather involved in Brookliana's military. They called him the Winter Soldier because when he showed up, the other side knew their luck had turned bad. They said that he was cold and efficient, more machine than man. They also said that he'd once walked into a trap and when the battle ended, he was the one left standing, but Tony didn't put much belief in that. The luck story was more believable if only because it did give troops higher spirits to see their commanders fight alongside them-- but no one walked out of a valley after being surrounded.

By all reports, Prince James was icy and severe; Tony figured that was a mask for the soldiers rather than a true indication of how he'd treat his husband, but there was no way to be sure. He couldn't be sure unless, of course, he went for a more reputable source.

He needed information about his future husband, and the best way of getting it was from the Prince himself. It would only make sense for them to write to each other. Now that Tony thought about it, they should've been doing this for years.

He hated to write a short letter-- it nearly felt like a waste of resources to have such a small message be delivered-- but the beginnings of a relationship could not be rushed. Once they started exchanging letters more regularly, the length would grow.

To Prince James of Brookliana, my betrothed.

If you are amenable, I would like to start a correspondence with you now, so that we might meet at our wedding not as complete strangers. What are your hobbies? Who are your friends? Perhaps you can tell me of the castle, as there are no descriptions of it in our library.

I look forward to receiving your response.

-Prince Anthony

The return letter was equally short. He told Tony that he enjoyed swimming and horseriding. There was no return of questions by the Prince, but Tony answered them anyways and posited more questions in his reply. He'd never swam before, but he could hardly show up to a coastal kingdom without knowing how. It had been an oversight, on his part, to not think about the possibility of swimming before now. He learned how to swim in water that was far too cold for comfort, but he did it until it felt as easy as riding.

The Prince's reply to his second letter was as short as his first had been.

Tony made his letters longer, hoping to draw Prince James into conversation or perhaps showing interest in Tony in return. It didn't work. Tony's letters were a respectable length, and the Prince replied with a single paragraph every single time. His answers were terse. He never opened a new topic of conversation or showed any sign that he was interested in learning about Tony. What Tony had suspected solidified into fact: the Prince only replied to his letters because duty demanded it of him.

Tony stopped trying. It would be unseemly, now, for him to cut off contact entirely, but he kept his letters to the Prince as perfunctory as the Prince's were to him. They were still long, but all the hope he’d previously poured into them was gone; he’d gotten used to writing down his activities this way, so why stop? He was doing it for himself now, not his future husband. 

On the eve of his twentieth birthday, he saw to the packing of his belongings. The birthday celebration had to last two days in recognition of his rank, and the day after the celebration, he was leaving for Brookliana. Every personal affect of his had to be brought along or disposed of. The letters, useless though they might have been, were a romantic gesture that he could not afford to leave behind.

The only thing that actually needed overseeing was his gift to Prince James. It was a Brooklin tradition for the two spouses to exchange gifts, and Tony needed to make a good impression. It was a gorgeous mare, and Tony had broken her himself. Prince James would of course have his own horse and a stable full of other steeds at his disposal should he need them, but the time that Tony had put into the gesture was important since he didn't know what sort of gift Prince James would actually want. Tony's own horse-- Butterfingers-- would be prepared without him saying a word, but he liked seeing after his welfare firsthand.

His birthday celebration was performative. It always had been, since he was neither the Crown Prince, nor going to spend the rest of his life there. Tony was an afterthought to his family. The other nobles had a tendency to think of him the same way (temporary and therefore unimportant), but at least his personal servants treated him like a Prince. The common people did as well; they had no other choice.

Tony would be making the journey alone. Alone in the sense that no one in his family was accompanying him. Not alone in the sense that he was the only person making the journey. He had his personal servants, and a contingent of royal guards. The guards would be going back to Manhatten after the wedding period ended, but he hadn't decided on whether or not he'd let his servants go with them. Officially, they were to stay with him for the rest of their lives. On a personal basis, Tony wasn't sure how he felt about forcing all of them to live away from everything that was familiar. If he was offered servants from Brookliana that he liked, then he'd send his current ones home.

The plan had originally been for his mother to come, along with either his brother or father. It was a royal wedding, after all, and some sort of escort would've been expected. Lord Stane had said that he would still be in attendance, but he would be arriving separately, from his own lands instead of leaving the capitol with Tony. In his last letter to Prince James-- that he'd ended with a declaration that he was excited to meet him-- he'd explained the situation: his brother's lover was pregnant and expected to go into labor any day now; her pregnancy had been rather difficult, and they were all worried for her and the baby. The excuse had the fortunate standing of being true, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be a blow to his reputation with the Brookliana court for him to be alone.

Traveling all the way to Brookliana would've taken ages if Maria had come along. She traveled by carriage not on horseback, and it slowed everything down. Tony had said that in no uncertain terms would he make the entire journey in a carriage. Mother had wrinkled her nose, but a glance at Father made her acquiesce-- he wasn't their problem any longer.

Still, he was almost surprised when Brookliana’s capitol came into view. The walls were high, and the other side of the castle was against a cliff. Perfect for withstanding an attack, but it meant that Tony felt suitably intimidated at the sight of the walls towering over them. They walked into the shadow cast by them long before they made it up to the open gates. He was going to get married in those walls, share a bed with his husband, and try to find his place in this foreign country.

It was the beginning of the rest of his life, and he was terrified.

Tony was introduced to Prince Buchanan first, not that he knew it until it was too late. He made a complete fool of himself. He'd seen someone awaiting him with a small guard, clearly a royal and young enough to be the Prince, and he had rushed up to him with a smile and kissed his cheek, talking about how excited he was to finally be able to put a face to the letters.

He was handsome. Tony hadn't dared hope, but he was. He'd seen a Prince, he thought it was the one he was to marry, and his first thought was that at least his smile was kind and he was handsome. It was... not Prince James. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but he did know that he should put a proper amount of space between them and wait for a response other than "I'm not Prince James".

Prince Buchanan-- "call me Bucky"-- had only smiled at him and his excitable rambling about how nice it was to meet his future husband and said, "My brother was supposed to be here to greet you, but there was an accident in training this afternoon that he had to oversee. He asked for me to greet you in his stead."

"I see. My apologies for acting without a proper introduction," Tony said, acting like he didn't kind of want to die for the mistake. He'd thought of how to act and what words he should say for weeks leading up to his departure, and he'd decided that besotted was the way to go. Now he'd ruined it, because he couldn't very well say and do the same things to Prince James now that Prince Buchanan had witnessed them.

"It's alright. I would've done the same in your place. He is sorry that he couldn't be here to greet you," Prince Buchanan insists.

Tony doesn't believe him, but he nods like he does.

"If you would allow me, I'll show you to your rooms?" he asks, gesturing back towards the castle.

Tony wonders if Prince Buchanan realizes that he's acting as though they're engaged instead of Tony to his brother, or if the conduct here is looser than Tony had been led to believe. He's not sure which answer would be better. Still, he can hardly refuse and demand that Prince James come to show him around, so he smiles and says, "That would be very kind. Thank you."

"Yasha is going to be positively green with envy that he missed this," Prince Buchanan said. He was still grinning. There was something good-natured to it, like he was doing it because he genuinely was this happy all the time. Of course, it was equally likely that he was as good at faking it as Tony was. "Your arrival is all he's been able to talk about for the past week."

Another lie. It was a lie in favor of making Tony happy instead of miserable, so he wouldn't hold it against Prince Buchanan. Yasha must be a family name for Prince James. Tony had never been invited to call him that over their letters, not that that was any surprise. "Oh?" Tony prodded politely. It would allow for Prince Buchanan to change the subject if he wanted, or he could try to lay the lie on further.

He went for the latter. "Yes. He's talked my ear off about do I think you'll like him or not and-" he pitched his voice higher, clearly mocking his brother "-'oh, Bucky, he loves riding, do you think I could convince him to go along the beach with me just once?'" He rolled his eyes then. "As if you'd say no."

Ah. That's what this was then. A reminder. As if Tony needed a reminder. He knew that his place as Prince James's husband was to make him happy however he could. He was well aware that he wasn't permitted to say no to him. "I would be delighted to share a ride with Prince James. Every morning, if he would permit me, though I understand that might not be feasible with his duties." See? Tony could be accommodating. He could be the single most accommodating person in this entire country. He'd show the entire royal family that he wouldn't be in their way here.

"I'm sure he'd like that," Prince Buchanan said with a grin.

Tony hoped that was true. Even if it was only once a month. He'd gifted Prince James a horse with the explicit hope that it would bring them closer. Yes, there had been other factors. Of course there had been, Tony didn't act without thinking the situation through. There had been a lot of reasons to go with the gift of a horse. He'd had every reason to believe, at the time of making that decision, that it was the right way to go. He wasn't as sure anymore, but that's because he was starting to think that Prince James wasn't willing to put any effort at all into their marriage. He didn't like being wrong generally speaking, but if he could be wrong about this new suspicion specifically, that would be nice.

Prince Buchanan showed him to his rooms and said, "I'll leave you to get settled. Someone will come for you for dinner, or you're free to look around the castle on your own, if you want."

"Thank you," Tony said, smiling at him kindly. Not a confirmation or a denial. He'd see how sick he felt once he started unpacking. It might be good to try and take initiative anyways. From what he'd heard about Prince James, he'd probably prefer a spouse who could take care of themself. If that was true, then it made Prince Buchanan's appearance instead of his own make much more sense. Throw someone in the ring to see what they did. 

There wasn't much for Tony, personally, to do. He could oversee the unpacking and the arrangement, but his servants already knew what to do by virtue of them being good at their jobs and also he'd gone over how he wanted things set up before they left for Brookliana in the first place. They didn't need Tony looking over their shoulders the entire time when they were perfectly capable of getting the job done without him.

Exploring it was. He took a quick look around the rooms and ascertained that the locked door led to Prince James's rooms-- it wouldn't be unlocked until their wedding. Past that, further inside the castle, would be the King and Queen's rooms, and of course Prince Buchanan's. Tony turned the other direction and kept track of which turns he made. It's not like he could go poking around the rooms he saw, but some of the doorways led to areas that were open. A small garden was enclosed in the middle, separate from the outside gardens. At the request of the Queen, Tony assumed. The Queen of a country always like overseeing a garden that contained her favorite flowers. Tony would have to take a closer look when he had a chance. After the wedding, hopefully-- he needed to believe that he wouldn't have time until after the wedding, or he might start crying. Not that he'd ever broken into tears against his will, but there was a first time for everything. Being here, alone, made him feel fragile. 

Tony started making his way back to his rooms before he reached the entrance to the castle. Before he got close, by his estimation. He'd taken the walk very slowly to try and remember it better, but he didn't have a good idea of how big the castle was. It had looked huge from the outside, but he knew that a large portion of that impression was simply that he had seen it for the first time and it was built specifically to look intimidating because it was a fort, not just a seat of power. Brookliana was famously known as a warrior country.

He was still surprised at how little adornment there was on the walls. Warrior country, fine, but everyone liked art. Buy a tapestry or ten, for god's sake. He wondered how long he'd have to wait before he could put up art on the castle’s walls. He hadn't brought any with him, assuming that his rooms would already be decorated. Which they were, but still. They'd actually gone to the trouble of hanging art in the style of his country in his room, instead of the art that Brookliana normally made. He'd have to find out whoever had been in charge of that decision and thank them.

He heard footsteps as he was ambling back to his room, and he turned to see who it was. Not that he'd recognize them on sight, but it was never too early to start introducing himself.

He turned and saw, for the first time, Prince James. He'd known that the Princes were identical twins, but he'd never met twins before. It was striking to see it in person, to see one and know that it wasn't the other even though their face was shaped the same. Prince Buchanan had his hair cut short, like Tony did. Prince James had long hair, down to his shoulders and thick. He wasn't smiling as their eyes met, and he didn't have the laugh lines as his brother did. He looked more serious, and his gaze more intense. Or maybe it felt more intense because he wasn't smiling.

"Prince Anthony," he said. His tone was neutral.

Tony smiled at him. His reflex was to smile. If nothing else, it showed that Tony wasn't bothered, which is what a lot of people wanted when they talked to him. "Prince James. It's nice to finally meet you, though I admit I did mistake your brother for you when I first saw him," he said in their language. He's not sure if Prince James speaks any of his, but he also needs to show that he's committed to his life here.

"Understandable." He took a couple steps closer. They'd both stopped walking when they saw each other, leaving them an uncomfortable distance apart. His throat worked.

Tony forced himself to not let his eyes drop at the movement.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there to greet you."

"It's all right," Tony said, smiling again. "You were busy. Where were you headed?" He gestures vaguely down the hallway in an offer to walk together. 

Prince James looks at him for a moment before answering. "I was going to clean up before dinner." Reluctant.

Tony isn't sure if it'll be worth it to try and make Prince James spend time with him. He'll have to see how dinner goes.

Dinner is a fucking disaster.

Tony did everything wrong. He'd been fucked before he ever got on his horse after his twentieth birthday. Long before.

He'd thought that Prince James wasn't happy to be marrying someone from another country-- especially Manhatten-- so he'd molded himself into as good a prospect he could for someone from Brookliana. He'd worked on things that Manhattians didn't respect specifically because he'd wanted to make Prince James proud to have him as a husband.

Prince James wanted someone who was stereotypical Manhattian. He didn't phrase it exactly that way, but over dinner, his brother had asked, in Vunitian with the incorrect assumption that Tony didn't speak it, "So what do you think of him?"

"He has calluses on his hands," Prince James said without looking up. There was barely any inflection in his voice. Cold like winter, indeed. It was obvious that he wasn't happy about that detail, as if Tony hadn't spent the past four years straight working on things that would make his future husband like him.

Prince Buchanan nodded in response, and Tony felt the urge to stab his fork into Prince James's hand. He had half a mind to not give him the horse after all. What was the point in trying to make a good impression when he'd already decided that he didn't like Tony? All the stupid letters that Tony had written, the hours spent in freezing cold water, breaking a horse especially for him, learning all the sword techniques he could. It had all been pointless.

He'd been as useless as Father had always claimed. Tony had always thought that Father was wrong. Not just thought, but knew. He'd known that his efforts would not be in vain.

And he'd been wrong. Prince James didn't want him. He didn't want to take five minutes to even get to know Tony. He'd failed. He didn't have a single friend or person to miss him. Largely, it was because he hadn't been acting as a Manhattian for that time; he'd been trying to make himself attractive to Brooklianans. He hadn't had time to try to make friends, even if he'd wanted to try, or been willing to leave them behind in a few years when he would have to go to Brookliana.

"You haven't given him a chance to show what he’s capable of," Prince Buchanan said.

"He isn't like they said he'd be." He stabbed a piece of meat and chewed it, tense.

Fuck stabbing him in the hand. Tony was going to stab him in the thigh, and he was going to make it deep. He'd leave a scar, and maybe that way, he'd feel like he actually accomplished something for once in his life. He'd felt accomplished before, but that's because he thought he was working towards something. The point had been to build up the life he was going to have in Brookliana so he could be perfect for his husband.

Prince James had wanted someone with fair skin and blond hair, and Tony had neither. He wanted someone who was well versed in the usual shit that Tony had always hated trying to learn because it was only worth something if someone else wanted it. Poetry, art, dancing. He'd always been shit at it. He'd thought, with a future husband from Brookliana, that he didn't have to try to get better at any of them, but now it turns out that he should've spent all his time on them anyways. If he'd stayed inside, he'd at least have a chance at the fair complexion that was considered beautiful. His hair would always be brown, but if he'd stayed inside like his sister had, then Prince James would be at least halfway interested in him right now.

"What are you discussing?" Tony asked innocently. Anything to get them to shut up. They wanted him to be more Manhattian, fine. He'd play clueless while being an asshole behind their back. Would that be sufficiently Manhattian for them?

"Border duty," they both answered.

Well, at least they were on the same page. He wondered if they had different answers ready depending on the day, because someone would get suspicious if they always claimed to be talking about border duty when speaking Vunitian. If Tony was still following his original plan, this would be the part where he inquired about the specifics of border duty and what was so fascinating about it that they wanted to talk about it when they weren't in the middle of a meeting. Instead, he blinked at them, and affected a slight disgust. "Do you always discuss the details of the military during meals?" It was petty. He was aware of that; he didn't let it stop him.

"No, and they shouldn't be now," the Queen said with a pointed look at her sons. Pointed in the sense that she agreed they shouldn't be discussing the military, not pointed in that she'd known what they were actually saying.

"Sorry, Mother," they both said, and she shot Tony a quick smile.

Well, if nothing else, at least she wasn't a part of it. That was no guarantee of what she thought of Tony, but he'd take what he could get. Tony, for now, simply smiled back at her.

The upside for Tony, and the downside for everyone else, was that he was light on his feet and without any art adorning the walls of the castle, voices echoed. He got close enough to hear, but they didn't hear him coming and therefore couldn't stop talking in time.

It was the King, and Prince James. Tony hovered, out of sight, and leaned against the wall. If it was boring, he'd leave. If it was interesting, then at least he'd have something to think about other than how pissed off he was at Prince James.

"You need to put in an effort," the King said.

"I don't know how to talk to him."

Oh god. Were they talking about him? Tony got his answer a second later.

"You are to be married in two days. I suggest you learn how to talk to him by morning."

"Father-" Prince James cut off. The King must have moved or given him a certain look to make it happen, because there was no other sound to interrupt him.

it was only after several seconds of silence that the King said, "We need this alliance to work. It's obvious that Prince Anthony cares for you. Look at him when he speaks to you. I don't care if you pay attention or not, but you need to make him think that you care and right now, it's obvious that you don't."

Tony left before he had to hear what Prince James was going to say in response. If the King was going to force Prince James to put in effort, then Tony was going to take full advantage of it. He needed to plan what he'd do tomorrow to capitalize on this. 

As he circled back around so he could make it to his rooms without being caught eavesdropping, he wondered why Prince Buchanan had bothered to tell Tony that his brother wanted to meet him. It was obvious that Prince James couldn't care less about him. Seriously, his father had to order him to pretend to care before they got married. So why had Prince Buchanan lied about it? It seemed so senseless. It would've worked just fine if Prince James had agreed to go along with his brother, but he hadn't.

Chapter Text

Tony had thought about it for hours last night. He knew that he needed a new plan, since trying to gain Prince James’s affection clearly wasn’t going to work, but the only idea he had was to keep trying and emotionally distance himself from the situation. He was going to give it his best shot, but it wouldn’t change much. He'd act the same, tell Prince James about himself and gift him the horse, and he'd smile and pretend like he didn’t know any better. He knew that it wouldn’t change anything, but they were going to have sex on the night of their wedding, and Tony was determined that it be good-- he hadn't waited all this time for it to be uncomfortable and bad, after all. It would be easier for both of them if Prince James thought that Tony was hopeful for gaining his love, even if he’d already given it up as a lost cause.

That being said, Tony wasn’t going to change his behavior, not really. If he hadn't heard the King and Prince James talking last night, he would've stared at his food with a straight back and pretended like he was too nervous to try starting a conversation, and it's what he did now. He took sidelong glances at Prince James and darted his gaze away when he got caught. It was pretending to be sneaky when he wasn't trying to be.

He didn't know why he bothered with such duplicity. He could be an annoying shit to Prince James all through breakfast, and it wouldn't make him feel any differently towards Tony than if he was quiet and longing, as he was doing now.

Tony didn't know if someone had to prod Prince James into action, but when the end of the meal came about, Prince James said, "Do you have any plans for the day?"

"I was planning to go to the stables. Maybe go for a ride if the weather is pleasant." He paused there. It was very open. If Prince James was thinking, he would realize that this was the opportunity he could play nice with Tony and feign interest.

He didn't.

Tony sighed internally. Truly, was he to do everything? "Would you care to join me?"

Prince James hesitated, then nodded.

Tony perked up. "Excellent." He let his supposed good mood keep him in high spirits for the rest of the meal. He wasn't sure any of it was faked, but he didn't think he could be faulted for it. This was his future husband he was dealing with. His entire future. It made sense that he was happy at any progress that was made, even if he knew it was progress forced there by the Prince not wanting to defy his King's orders. Tony would take it. It's not like he had any other options for his future.

"Shall I meet you at the stables or would you like to walk to our rooms together?"

Prince James hesitated again before answering.

If Tony was being gracious, he'd say that Prince James wanted to give his questions the consideration they deserved. As it was, he wasn't feeling overly gracious, so he would go with the more likely conclusion of Prince James not knowing what he was supposed to say. Maybe people didn't ask him questions ever, and that's why he was like this.

"I'll meet you at the stables," he said slowly.

Tony tipped his head in acknowledgement, then got to his feet and walked to his rooms. He may not know his way around the entire castle, but he could make it from his room to where they had meals. So far, all of those meals had only been attended by the royal family, but he didn't know how long that would last for. He might be uninvited from family meals later on, or this could be an arrangement they did solely to ease Tony into life here and they usually didn’t eat together like this. For all he knew, after the wedding, he could spend every meal amongst assorted nobles as had been common in Manhatten. Not that Tony had chosen to attend most of them. He'd taken the majority of his meals in his sitting room where all of his work was. He’d had so much that he needed to get done, and he had been constantly aware of his deadline creeping steadily closer. 

He got changed into his riding clothes and made his way to the stables. It was the place outside of his rooms where he'd spent the most time, so far. After he deemed his relationship with Prince James unsalvageable, he would be able to sequester himself in the library. For now, the stables were the better option. Plus, he wanted to make sure Butterfingers was settling in. He was rather neurotic, even for a horse-- Gregory had said that he got it from his rider, but what did he know, he could barely ride to begin with.

He greeted Butterfingers with a fond pat and a promise to be back in a minute, then walked over to the stall where Summer was. He didn't know how long Prince James would be, so he picked up a brush and started working.

"Your Highness?"

Tony looked over at the nervous stablehand.

"If no one was able to assist you, I apologize." The poor lad was about to continue, but there was no need for Tony to let him suffer, thinking that something was wrong.

"Not at all, I wanted to spend some time with her," Tony said with a smile. "It eases my mind." It wasn't even a lie.

The stablehand gave a small, awkward bow and shuffled off, leaving Tony alone with Summer once again.

There was a good chance that Prince James would never love him. Forget love, he probably wouldn't like Tony. But brushing Summer like this reminded Tony of the hope he'd had for his arrival here. He'd wanted for Summer to be perfect, and he'd talked to her about what he thought Prince James might be like. It was silly and he knew it, but he'd wanted for Summer to feel like she already knew Prince James when she met him. Even if Summer had heard everything Tony said and had hopes for what to expect, she'd be disappointed now. It was for the best that she was just a horse; Tony didn't want to be responsible for bringing someone else down with him.

"He's not what I expected," Tony muttered to her. He did it in his own language on the off chance that someone was close enough to hear him-- the chances of anyone here speaking Manhattian were low. "I'm sure he'll be good to you, though. I wouldn't give you to him if I thought otherwise."

He looked at Summer, at her shining fur that was so light it looked like gold in the sun, and felt a wave of sadness at what could have been. A healthy dose of realism had kept him from getting his hopes too high, but he'd still had hope. Hope that Prince James wouldn't hate him. Hope that Prince James would give him a chance, would talk to him. He expected for it to be awkward, not impossible.

He switched back to Brooklin and said, "Everyone loves you. They can't help themselves."

Summer's attention went towards the front of her stall, and Tony turned. Prince James was standing there, but Tony hadn't heard him approach.

Tony smiled at him reflexively. When in doubt, smile. "Hello."

"Were you waiting long?" Prince James asked, instead of saying hello back. At this point, Tony wasn't surprised.

He shook his head. "No. I was just-" he gestured at Summer with the brush "-catching up with her."

Prince James stepped closer. Tony was about to be surprised by the motion, but the reason why Prince James hadn't hesitated was because he was walking to Summer's other side, not Tony. He stayed near her head, well within view. He raised a hand and reached out to her neck, then stopped before he made contact. His eyes darted to Tony. "May I?"

"Please."

Prince James had definitely earned his reputation as being cold as ice, and this was the first time Tony had seen him melt the slightest bit. His gaze softened, almost imperceptibly, and he laid a hand on Summer's neck.

Neither of them spoke.

Tony started brushing her mane for something to do with his hands. On the other side, Prince James was petting her neck lightly. Tony didn't even try to make it seem like he wasn't watching Prince James for his reaction.

He moved his hand further down, towards her shoulder but kept the rest of his body where it was. "She's gorgeous."

"I'm glad you think so," Tony said, grinning.

Prince James didn't look at him. "Would you like assistance preparing her for the ride?"

"I wasn't going to take her," Tony said.

Prince James did look at him then, a touch incredulously. If Tony had known that a visit to the stables was all it took to get Prince James to react to him, he would've done it the second he arrived-- or, rather, the second after he actually met Prince James and not his brother.

Tony continued grinning at him, but he didn't make him wait-- he didn't think Prince James would ask a question to know more no matter how much time Tony gave him. "My horse is in the stall over there," he said, pointing to the left, past Prince James. "The black gelding."

Confusion. Prince James was clearly thinking but didn't say aloud was 'so whose is this one?'.

"She's yours," Tony said, grin turning to something softer. He knew it was pointless. Prince James wasn't going to suddenly look past all of Tony's faults because he gave him Summer, but he was going to let the warmth of hope fill him while it could, before he completely lost faith. "I read up on Brookliana's marriage traditions, and it said that I should give you a gift. I brought her here for you."

Prince James blinked at him. If Tony didn't know better, he'd say that he was surprised. It was hard to know for sure though, since the Prince's expression had gone blank again instead of remaining the modicum of open that he'd had while petting Summer.

"I know that you already have a horse of your own, but." Tony shrugged. "I didn't know what else to get you," he admitted.

"I felt the same when choosing a gift for you," the Prince said.

Tony got the feeling it was the first thing Prince James had said to him that he wanted to say.

"If you tell me what you would like, I shall see if I can get it for you before the wedding celebration is over."

"I'm sure whatever you picked will be more than satisfactory," Tony said.

"It isn't." Prince James said it with such certainty. It wasn't a simpering plea for reassurances. He was sure that Tony wouldn't like it.

"You hardly know me," Tony said. There were perhaps better ways he could guide this conversation, but he was curious. He wanted to know what the gift was, and he had no idea what to ask Prince James for instead, so there was no point in him going the way Prince James wanted. "Whatever gift you've chosen for me will be more than enough. I'm very easy to please." A lie, but a good one. He was perfectly capable of pretending to be happy.

Prince James brought his hand back up from Summer's shoulder to her neck, then stepped away. "Thank you," he said. "For the horse. What's her name?"

"Summer." Tony was only going to admit that part of that name decision had been in juxtaposition of Prince James's 'Winter' title if they started getting along. He'd thought that it would be a fun tidbit to share as they cautiously flirted with each other. There was none of that now. He was sure that Prince James would not believe good humor on his part, if he told him about it now.

Prince James didn't look at him suspiciously. He just nodded, like that made perfect sense. "We should saddle our horses."

"As you say," Tony said. Demure. He didn't know what he was doing, and it was painfully obvious. To him, that is. He was reasonably sure that Prince James had no idea what Tony was thinking, of all the plans and calculations he was attempting to work through at the same time that he dealt with a nearly soul-crushing disappointment. His wedding to Prince James wouldn't change anything between them. They would be the same afterwards as they were now. It could be worse, he knew. Prince James could hate him, instead of merely feeling indifference towards him. Still. It was hard to breathe at the interest in the horse followed swiftly by his apathy for Tony. 

They left Summer's stall and took care of their separate horses.

Butterfingers was jet black, from muzzle to tail. Prince James must not have expected it, because he practically froze in place when he saw him. His own horse was a rich brown, massive in order to match the size of its rider. And alright, maybe Tony was reading too much into it. He didn't know Prince James very well, and that small pause could've meant any number of things. It was equally likely that Prince James thought he was ill suited to his horse.

The ride was fine. Tony didn't push for more conversation even though he was tempted to make Prince James regret his past behavior towards Tony. He didn't go through with it because Prince James wouldn't know that that was the reason Tony was being obnoxious, and it's not as if Tony could tell him flat out. They were both Princes, yes, but Prince James stood to inherit whereas Tony had been shipped off, with no one in his family even here to witness the ceremony or wish him luck in his new life.

Prince James gave him several looks as they trot a well beaten path, and Tony pretended not to notice. If Prince James had something to wanted to tell him, then he could open his mouth and tell him; Tony wasn't going to do all the work for him-- and that was assuming that Prince James wanted to speak to him at all, and wasn't simply looking at him as he thought of the way Tony looked nothing like he'd hoped. Fair skinned and light haired. That's what everyone wanted. None of the Stark children looked that way, but it is what Mother looked like. Tony had no doubt that when Gregory got married, it would be to a woman with light hair and even lighter skin. Natasha had fair skin, but that was the result of years of refusing to sun herself in summer and her hair looked black instead of brown like the rest of them had.

"Prince Anthony," a messenger said. "I was bid to inform you that a Lord Stane had arrived."

Tony perked up. He'd actually shown! Not that Obadiah had broken a promise before, but Tony knew that Obadiah was an ambitious man, and there wasn't much that Tony could do to further his goals when he was in Brookliana. He'd half-thought that he wasn't going to see him again. His wedding might mark the last time, though. In fact, he was sure that this would be the last time he saw him; the trip wouldn't be worth it for Lord Stane, especially with the way Tony was failing to endear himself to Prince James. He would be redundant at best, and useless most realistically. There was no use in Obadiah continuing to visit him, and he knew it. That didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy this.

"I can take you to him, if it pleases your Majesty."

"Please," Tony said. There was a bounce to his step, and he knew he should tamp down on it before he saw the man. It is who he'd learned his self-control from, and he'd hate to make a bad last impression after everything Obadiah had done for him-- hell, he'd been more like a father to Tony than King Howard had ever been, knowing as he had that Tony wouldn't be sticking around Manhatten after he was legally an adult.

It was a short walk towards the entrance. It's where all of the visiting nobles arrived for the wedding, but this was the first one to come that Tony already knew. He'd spent some time meeting everyone that gathered from the reaches of Brookliana for the royal wedding. These were the people he'd be dealing with for the rest of his life, after all. He may not be making the best impression since a good portion of them expected from him what Prince James had, and he wasn't. Still, most of them exchanged pleasantries as he'd expected, and he kept a mental count of who responded favorably towards him. He kept track of the ones that didn't like him as well, but they could wait until after the wedding celebration to be dealt with. Before Tony could plan how to deal with them, he'd have to know how Prince James felt about him. Rather, he would wait until Prince James had gotten to know him a little better and had genuine reasons for disliking him instead of Tony merely not meeting his expectations.

Lord Stane had the best holding in Manhatten. His wife had killed herself from grief after their son succumbed to illness, and the line of inheritance for his lands was still up in the air. At least, that's how it appeared to the court. Tony fully believed that Obadiah already knew who he wanted to inherit, and that was assuming he hadn't already set it up and simply not declared it formally as his heir continued to prepare.

Tony grinned when he turned down the hallway and saw him. He hadn't seen Obadiah since his last birthday celebration when he was nineteen, but he hadn't changed a bit. Shaved head and a full white beard. He had plenty of wrinkles around his eyes from where the skin scrunched together when he smiled-- and Obadiah smiled more than anyone else Tony knew-- where else would he have gotten the idea from? Pretty much everything Tony had learned about dealing with the court, he'd learned from Obadiah.

"Lord Stane," Tony greeted.

Obadiah turned at hearing his name, then smiled. He inclined his head respectfully. "Prince Anthony." He reached out his hand and Tony clasped it.

"I'm glad you came."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, my boy."

Tony squeezed his hand gratefully. It's not like he could say 'at least someone cared enough to come' out loud in front of all Stane's servants, not to mention the palace's staff.

Obadiah let his arm fall back to his side after they both let go. "How has the Brookliana weather been treating you?"

"Very well. It's warmer here than it is in the capitol." He hadn't had time to go in the water yet, but he would wager that it was significantly warmer than the lake he'd learned to swim in. Also, any of the other lakes in Manhatten. He'd traveled around a bit, wanting to get as much experience as he could, and every single lake he'd dipped into had been little better than freezing, even in the summer. It would be a while before he could go swimming here, though. He'd need to get his household in order, settle into whatever his relationship was going to be with Prince James, and work on his plans for the future. Depending on how Prince James not only liked him but treated him, he might decide to not help him at all with the ruling of the kingdom, and then he would be free to swim as much as he pleased. Not that he was sure he would. He'd hated learning to swim, and he'd hated every bit of maintenance that he'd had to do to keep his skill. It had never been fun, the way that Brooklianans claimed it was in their writing. He didn't quite know if that meant he'd done it wrong or not, but he would still need to try it in these waters to see how it was.

"I'm glad to hear it," Obadiah said. He clasped a hand on Tony's shoulder, then his eyes went to something behind Tony.

Tony turned to see what, or rather who, it was. Prince Buchanan. He kept his smile on. It's not like he had anything against the Prince for being a good brother to Prince James. Unfortunately, since Tony didn't want to feel too kindly to Prince James, it kept Prince Buchanan from holding too nice a position in his mind. "Prince Buchanan," he said, both in greeting and to let Obadiah know that this wasn't the Prince he was more interested in meeting. "May I introduce you to Lord Stane of Manhatten?"

Prince Buchanan smiled then, walking closer. His smile was, Tony noticed, fake. He wasn't very good at this pretending thing-- not when it came to people other than Tony, at least. With Tony, he'd managed to lie quite nicely. He might be one of those people that was only good at lying if he was prepared for it. As a Prince, he should get better at that. Prince James at least managed to keep a flat expression the rest of the time, which was better than fading in and out.

"He rules over Greenwich." Tony didn't have to add that it was the best territory in the Manhattian kingdom. It was a well known fact, even in Brookliana. "Lord Stane, this is Prince Buchanan, my fiance's twin brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Lord Stane said. Unlike with Tony, he didn't extend his hand. He did give a small bow-- to do otherwise would've been a slight that he didn't see the need for.

"Likewise," Prince Buchanan said, a touch stiffly. Someone else might not have noticed, but Tony did, and he was sure that Obadiah did as well.

"Are you looking forward to your brother's wedding?" he asked politely.

Prince Buchanan's gaze went to Tony for a second. "Of course." That came out sincerely. What the hell was he playing at? Prince Buchanan hadn't objected or raised any real defense on Tony's behalf when Prince James said that he was disappointed in Tony. Why, then, was he looking forward to Tony's wedding to his brother? Maybe he'd decided that he hated Tony enough to want him to be miserable in his marriage, but that seemed a bit much, not to mention out of character for him. Tony had a decent grasp on what Prince Buchanan was like, he thought. He might ask Obadiah when they had a minute alone; Lord Stane had much more experience in reading people than Tony did.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from your duties," Obadiah said.

Prince Buchanan gave himself a shake. "Of course not, but I should be... getting back. Lord Stane. Prince Anthony," he said, inclining his head to Tony and leaving.

Tony shared a look with Obadiah. He didn't like you very much.

Obadiah quirked one corner of his mouth. He knew.

"How long are you planning to stay?" Tony asked.

"Until the end of the wedding celebration. I've never attended a wedding in Brookliana, and I'm curious. Besides, with King Howard unable to attend, I thought you might appreciate a familiar face."

"I do," Tony assured him. "Everyone else is too busy preparing for Gregory's baby."

"The King's last letter said as much," Obadiah said, nodding. They couldn't truly talk about the subject without privacy, and both of them knew it.

"How have things been in Greenwich?"

Obadiah heaved a sigh. "How are they ever."

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"I appreciate your confidence in me," Obadiah said, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder for a moment. "How about you show me around, my boy, hm?"

"Of course. Have you seen anything other than your room yet?"

The answer was no, and Tony showed him around the castle, the stables, the gardens. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything to show him beyond that, and he admitted as much when they were in the gardens. With a wall on one side and a clear view of the path up to them, it was as close to privacy as they were going to get. "How are things with the baby, truly? They didn't share the details with me, but it sounded serious."

Obadiah sighed, shaking his head. "They're not sure both mother and child will survive giving birth. The King didn't say as much, but he knows what the odds are. Your brother is... very attached to his lover. I don't know how he will cope with losing her."

Tony sighed as well. He couldn't stand Jennifer, and the feeling was mutual. But he wouldn't wish death on anyone, and it was obvious how besotted Gregory was with her. "He'd be destroyed."

There was an extended moment of silence as they both digested that. Or rather, Tony digested it, and Obadiah gave him the time to get used to it. "I met your brother in law; is your husband any better?"

Tony didn't groan because he had more self control than that, but he wanted to. "Worse. Prince Buchanan smiles at me, upon occasion. It's pulling teeth to get Prince James to even look at me."

"Why is that?"

"He wanted someone more Manhattian. I know, you told me to hedge my bets, and I didn't listen."

"It was a smart idea," Obadiah comforted him.

"Maybe, but it didn't pan out. You told me not to go all in on acting like I was from Brookliana, and you were right."

"He'll appreciate you in time, Tony."

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. He'd thought that the sky was the same everywhere, but it looked more blue here. "I think you'll change your mind on that once you meet him."

"For your sake, I hope that's not true."

Fair enough. "Just between us, who's going to be your heir?"

"Come now, Tony, you can't expect for me to answer the most sought after answer in our kingdom."

"Ah, but it's soon to be not my kingdom anymore, so what's the harm?"

Obadiah shook his head fondly. "You didn't discover it on your own, which means you will have to wait to learn it along with everyone else."

"Behind everyone else, you mean," Tony said. He wouldn't get the news until every single person in Manhatten had heard mention of it.

"Believe me, when it happens, you will be among the first to notice."

Tony perked up a little. That was either Obadiah assuring him that he would send him a letter with the news, or he believed that Tony would figure it out before the news trickled down to him naturally. Either way, it was an answer that made Tony happy.

Prince James cornered Tony outside his rooms. Yes, Tony felt that cornered was the correct term for it.

The only route of escape he had was to go into his rooms, but that wasn't truly an option. If he opened the door to his room while Prince James was talking to him, it could be seen as an invitation, and he'd follow Tony into the room. It was hardly appropriate for the two of them when they were not yet married. Which Prince James had to have known, and Tony's reputation wouldn't be ruined since they were going to be married the following day, but it wouldn't look too good for him. So, yes, cornered.

He cornered Tony, and then didn't say anything. He just looked at him expectantly.

"Are you going to ask a question here, or am I supposed to guess?" Tony asked, affecting innocence instead of the annoyance that he was feeling. Maybe something a little worse than annoyance, if he was being honest. Fear. Only a small trickle of it, but it put him on edge.

"Bucky told me that a lord from from Manhatten came for you."

"Yes, it's a wedding. People have a proclivity to attend those."

"No one in your family showed up," Prince James said bluntly. No one cared enough about Tony to attend on his behalf, he meant.

Tony felt the urge to stab him with a fork again, but he didn't have a fork in hand. Maybe he'd just punch him. He'd never actually do it, and he knew that. Prince James was, for one, his betrothed. For another, he was a royal in the country that Tony had to spend the rest of his life in. And lastly, Prince James was huge. Tony wasn't petite, but Prince James was twice as broad as he was. His clothes covered his body enough that he couldn't see the definition of his muscles, but he got the feeling that Prince James could break him in half with two punches. Tony supposed he'd get to know exactly how thick his muscles were because tomorrow night, he'd be able to see them and feel them himself-- his impending wedding night was yet another reason to not punch him. "Are you going somewhere with this?" Tony asked, keeping his small, pleasant smile on his face that he'd slapped on as soon as he saw Prince James.

"It's the lord of Greenwich."

"Yes."

A pause, where Prince James didn't elaborate.

"I'm afraid I don't see the direction this is going."

"He's notoriously power hungry. Why would he attend our wedding?"

Tony didn't roll his eyes. "It's a royal wedding."

"The two of you are familiar with each other."

If Tony wasn't playing nice right now, he'd say something scathing about how Prince James kept jumping around and not making much sense. Would it really be so difficult for him to come out with a full line of thought? But if Prince James wanted to make this difficult, then fine. Two could play at that game. "We are."

"Why is he here?"

"It's a royal wedding, and as you said, we're familiar with each other."

"Your parents didn't care to attend, but he's here."

"My family is facing a difficult pregnancy, one they are all worried about. Lord Stane has no such concerns in his life at the moment."

Prince James continued to stare at him. Intense. He was closed off and as welcoming as a blizzard. Like winter, indeed.

Tony wondered if he was going to be so removed and difficult during their wedding night. He hoped not, since it's not as if Tony had been allowed to figure out how sex worked on his own. He didn't want to have to admit to Prince James that he had to take charge for it. The Prince already knew that, but if he made Tony actually say it, he was going to be very upset about it. It was one thing to be forced into ignorance; it was another to have to ask for someone's help when it was their fault he didn't know anything. "Was that all?" Tony asked.

Prince James looked at him evenly. Then he held a small box out to Tony.

Huh. Tony had been too distracted to notice that he was holding something. It must've been the surprise at seeing Prince James waiting for him. "What is it?" he asked, instead of accepting it. Accepting boxes without knowing what was inside was always a bad idea.

"Your wedding gift."

"Oh." He reached out, and Prince James handed it to him. He lifted the lid, and silver and blue glittered up at him in the torchlight. It was a necklace in the Crown Prince's colors. It made sense as a courting gift, but as far as a wedding gift when both of them were royals, it was, well, underwhelming compared to what Tony had gotten him. He didn't believe that Prince James had commissioned it specifically for him, or that he'd even chosen it when he saw it; Prince James had probably had someone else pick it for him. Still, it was a good gift for what he'd thought Tony would be like, so Tony smiled at him because that's what he was supposed to do. "Thank you."

"I would've gotten you something more to your tastes if you had told me." 

As if that was Tony's fault? He was supposed to be agreeable and low maintenance, so that's how he acted. "No, it's beautiful. I love it."

Prince James's expression was his usual blank mask. Tony couldn't tell if he believed him or not. He worried that Prince James was going to push the matter, but instead he said, "I don't trust Lord Stane, and you shouldn't either."

Don't tell me what to do, Tony wanted to say, but the truth was that Prince James could tell Tony what to do, both as his husband and the Crown Prince. He didn't respond for a few seconds. "Thank you for the necklace."

Prince James stepped to the side, letting Tony through. His gaze was a physical weight on Tony's shoulders, and it only lifted when Tony closed the door on him. He didn't even bother to hide it.

What was his problem? Obadiah was here for Tony. Well, and because he'd never been to a wedding in Brookliana before, but it wasn’t so unbelievable that he was here just for Tony. Plain and simple, here to see Tony get married. Why was Prince James acting like there was something more to it? Paranoia must have been a trait of his that Tony hadn't known about. If he was paranoid, then at least it would explain why Prince James seemed to hate him. Paranoia combined with Tony not appearing the way he wanted, and it would be plenty for him to decide that he neither liked nor trusted Tony.

He grit his teeth together, then started getting ready for bed. As much as he would like to bury his head in the sand and say that Prince James's problems were not his problems, it wasn't true. They were about to be married. Bonded together for life. By the letter of their vows-- or at least, how vows worked in Manhatten-- they were taking on each other's problems when they got married. Even if that weren't true, Prince James being the next in line would mean that his problems were everyone's problems.

He would deal with this, but that didn't mean he wasn't... disappointed. Yes, he was annoyed and hurt as well, but mostly, he felt that his feelings towards Prince James could be described as disappointed. Not that he lived up to his reputation of being a cold soldier, but that he clearly didn't care about Tony. He didn't want to get to know Tony. He hadn't known him for a week, and he'd already decided that Tony was worth suspicion and scorn.

He'd hoped that if he couldn't find love in his marriage, he would at least be able to find friendship. It was the most childlike thing about him.

Well. What did people say about childish things? That they would be left behind when he became a man. He was a man now. It had taken him a few weeks to catch up, but he'd done it.

There was no love awaiting him in the wings. No friend that cared for him in this strange country. No one that cared if he was happy in his life. Obadiah was the closest he had, but he knew that theirs wasn't a relationship that would withstand the move away from Manhatten. He would be alone, in the same manner that he'd been in Manhatten, only worse. This wasn't his home, where he had the respect of everyone he passed. He couldn't expect to be treated like a beloved Prince. Everyone would want for him to be the way that his father had: silent and out of the way.

It was, in a word, depressing.

No more depressing than everyone had thought he should be for getting shipped off to marry a stranger, but now he'd finally caught up and was feeling it. He wasn't scared with the distant hope that maybe he would stumble on good luck. He was terrified. After tomorrow, he'd be married to someone that hated him, and the people loved. It was in his best interest that Prince James decided to leave him to his own devices as Father had done instead of trying to push him into certain activities to occupy his time.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He well and truly did not. Before, when he'd thought that, what he meant was that he didn't have any plan fleshed out, but he believed that, with enough time, he could handle it-- it would just take more time than he liked. Right now, he meant that he didn't have a single plan for how to salvage this situation and spend his life happy.

He hated this. He could ask Lord Stane for advice, but what would be the point? He wouldn't be able to whisk Tony away from the situation entirely, and if Tony couldn't figure this out for himself, then he'd never be able to do it. There was a solution here. It existed, he just had to find it.

Chapter Text

The Queen came to keep him company. It was tradition for the spouse to the Crown Prince to spend the day being prepared by the Queen for their upcoming role in the kingdom, she explained. 

The Queen was a much better liar than either of her sons. She pretended to be pleasant, but she didn't oversell it like Prince Buchanan had. It was what spending the day of your wedding with a virtual stranger should have been like, and Tony was glad that at least one other person here knew how they were supposed to act.

He felt a mounting tension. Not at the marriage itself or the act of the wedding, but the consummation that was to follow. He hadn't been allowed to have sex. He knew that plenty of people hadn't had sex by his age, but it was different for him because he'd wanted to but hadn't been allowed. He would've lost his virginity years ago, if the choice was his. By now, he'd not only know what he was doing, but he'd be good at it. What if Prince James wanted someone more experienced?

As soon as he had that thought, he snorted internally. So far, Prince James had only been upset at Tony having experience. He'd mentioned that he was the one who broke Summer this morning over breakfast-- a more formal affair than usual, but otherwise not changed to match his scheduled day of wedding preparations-- and Prince James had gone all still and didn't look at him again for the rest of the meal.

Him being completely clueless about sex would probably be the thing that Prince James liked most about him.

"Your Majesty?" Tony asked, after the servants left to go bring his wedding outfit.

"You can call me Winnifred when we're in private," she offered. "We are about to be family. Or Mother, if you prefer. I always wanted another son," she added with a small smile in his direction.

Tony was going to treat that offer the same way he'd treated Prince Buchanan's offer to call him Bucky. He was also going to retract his former thoughts about her being the only other reasonable person here. Clearly, Prince Buchanan had gotten it from somewhere. "Might I ask you something? About Prince James?"

"Of course, dear."

He needed to be careful about how he worded this. Too accusatory, and she'd be offended. Too open-ended, and he wouldn't get the answer he needed. "Has Prince James had many lovers before me? I didn't think he would appreciate me asking him," he said, adding a small, self-deprecating smile.

She hesitated visibly. "A few," she said diplomatically, in a way that meant he'd had more than she felt comfortable disclosing.

"Should I be worried about any of them being jealous?" It wasn't why he'd asked, but there was no harm in nudging the Queen away from the true reason he'd asked.

"Oh, not at all. Everyone in the kingdom has known that he was to marry. The relationships were never serious, and always ended amicably."

If Tony had been worried about it, that answer wouldn't have made him feel better in the slightest. Of course, if that's what he'd been worried about, he would never have talked to the Queen about it. But she didn't know that, so it was harmless. Besides, he got the answer he was looking for: Prince James was experienced. He supposed that was better than both of them being clueless, though he did wonder why the hell Prince James was allowed to sleep around, yet Tony had been forced into a one-sided chastity agreement. Oh well. It's not like he could change it now.

The wedding ceremony was substantially shorter in Brookliana than it would have been in Manhatten. A shorter ceremony, and a longer celebration to follow. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole package yet, but so far, he preferred the ceremony that didn't have him standing for six hours.

He didn't really know what was planned for their wedding celebration. He'd tried to look it up, but there hadn't been any books on it in Manhatten. And he could've asked the Queen, but he didn't want to sound like he was too nervous. Was the wedding celebration a variation of the honeymoon period? Maybe it was, and him and Prince James would be spending the celebration period locked up in their rooms together. For that sole thought, he hoped it was nothing like a honeymoon. He was pretty sure that if Prince James had to spend that much time alone with him, he might kill Tony.

The ceremony itself was rather painless, and Tony considered himself fluent in Brooklin, but there had been several words that he didn't understand-- and it's not as if he could ask what they meant in the middle of it all.

When the officiant declared them married, Prince James pressed a perfunctory kiss to Tony's mouth, then leaned back into his own space quickly as his cheeks pinked. He didn't look at Tony any more than he absolutely had to. Which wasn't much.

Tony paid attention as they walked out of the hall and went to the formal dining room to thank everyone for showing up and making small talk with each individual attendee as the kitchens finished preparing the food for their wedding feast. Prince James looked at him once that entire time, and it was to make sure that Tony was standing next to him before the first guest approached them.

They sat down at the high table. The King and Queen were still in the center, of course, but Prince James and Tony's position was more prominent in this setup than it normally would have been. Tony felt ridiculous, like he was on display. He was, in a way, but Prince James was supposed to be as visible as him in this, and it felt uneven.

Prince James looked the same that he always did. Bored and unruffled. Like he'd rather be doing pretty much anything else.

Prince Buchanan was a short ways away on Tony's other side instead of sitting next to his brother.

Tony sipped at his glass of sparkling wine sparingly, and he noticed that Prince James also only had one glass. Unlike Tony, he downed it, then had water for the rest of the night.

Prince Buchanan was indulging in the celebration, and Tony wasn't paying close attention, but he'd had at least five glasses of wine by the time Prince James got to his feet without a word and left. No one glanced his way or whispered anything about Tony, so he stayed where he was sitting with the assumption that he would be back in a few minutes. A few seconds after he was gone, Prince Buchanan said, "So, looking forward to tonight?"

"Very much," Tony said flatly. What was the point in pretending to be happy about it? He was going to be walking into the room totally clueless. He didn't know what Prince James truly thought about him, other than the fact that he was disappointed in how Tony looked. Prince James feeling that way wasn't going to be conducive to them having sex. He supposed that the plan was for both of them to simply pretend that they weren't with the person they were with. A real happy marriage he was walking into.

Prince Buchanan frowned. "You don't like him."

"He doesn't like me," Tony corrected. He poked at something on his plate. This was supposed to be dessert, but he had no idea what it was. He'd taken a bite earlier, thinking it would be like a Manhattian pastry, and he regretted it afterwards. He wondered if he could claim nerves or excitement for why he didn't finish it.

"He likes you," he insisted.

"He's looked at me once all night. He never talks to me if he can help it. Any time he's forced to talk to me, he keeps his answers as short as he possibly can. I have years of letters that prove he doesn't like talking to me, no matter the topic or how long he had to form a response. I know that he doesn't like me." He looked over at Prince Buchanan then. "Is there any reason you're trying to convince me he likes me when he so clearly doesn't?"

Prince Buchanan blinked at him dumbly. It was probably all the wine that stopped him from knowing what to say. Or maybe, like Tony, he couldn't believe that he'd actually said any of that; it hadn't been smart for him to admit that he knew Prince James didn't care about him. He should've pretended that Prince James loved him but had problems expressing himself, but no, he'd let his nerves get the better of him. "He likes you," Prince Buchanan said again.

"So we're still pretending," Tony said, looking back down at his plate. "Got it." He cut some of the dessert onto his fork. If he was already miserable tonight, there was no point in lessening it and making the cooks mad at him as well.

"No, he-" Prince Buchanan stopped and took a quick look around to make sure that no one had walked up to them and could now hear. "He really does like you, but it's hard for him to be emotional. You'll get to know him better soon, and you'll see what I mean."

"Sure."

"Prince Anthony, I mean it. I know my brother. If he didn't like you, I would hardly be here now trying to convince you otherwise."

Tony sighed. Clearly, Prince Buchanan wasn't going to let this go. He'd keep talking about it either until Prince James came back, or until he thought Tony was convinced. He didn't know where Prince James had gone, so he wasn't going to count on a swift rescue coming from him. "I'm nervous, that's all."

"It sounds like more than that."

"It sounds like more than that because no one in my family is here, and I'm spending the rest of my life in a country I've never visited before. And yes, Prince James was rather short in his letters to me where I was hoping I would know more about Brookliana by this point, but that only serves to make me more nervous. You know your brother better than I do, I'm aware of that. Unfamiliar customs and not knowing what to expect in the coming week is doing nothing to soothe my worries."

Prince Buchanan accepted his excuse easily enough now that he'd elaborated, but he turned to face him more fully. "What are you worried about? Or what is it that you don't know? I'd be happy to help any way I can."

"It's fine."

"Clearly, it's not fine if it's got you this worked up."

Normally, Tony would brush him off and say that he'd ask Prince James later, but he did want the information that Prince Buchanan was offering. "What is the wedding celebration? No one's mentioned the details."

Prince Buchanan blinked. It wasn't like before, where he was stupefied at the things Tony was saying. No, this was a cultural difference that he hadn't anticipated-- Tony didn't think anyone here appreciated how well he'd been handling all the differences; anyone else from Manhatten would've had a nervous breakdown at the clothes alone with how differently they fit. "Right. They probably thought you knew already. There's a tournament that lasts for three days; it starts the day after tomorrow. There's a festival in town to bring in merchants, and you and Yasha are supposed to buy from various stalls to show your support. Greet the common people as a couple, show how well you'll lead together, that sort of thing. Musical performances come after the tournament, and it's another manner of patronage for you to start together."

Tony nodded and took another bite. He'd attended festivals before, he knew the song and dance of it. The musical performances were uncharted territory for him, but it sounded familiar enough. "What kind of tournament? Sword fighting and jousting?"

"What's jousting?"

Tony didn't sigh, but he did take a bigger bite of his dessert. Another two bites like that and he'd be done with it. "It's a sport," he said when he finished chewing. "What events does it include, if not jousting?" He took another bite. This was miserable.

"Well, sword fighting is one of them. Foot and horse races, javelin throwing, and boxing." He paused, eyes going distant for a second before coming back to himself. "I'm forgetting something."

It's not like Tony much cared what he was forgetting. What in the world was boxing? He could ask but he thought that he'd prefer to go back to being miserable in silence rather than dividing his attention between information gathering and having his tongue assaulted by horrendous flavor. He'd see first hand what boxing was when the tournament happened. It's not as if he would be taking part in any of it, so he didn't need to worry. Now that he knew what the wedding celebration had scheduled, he could breathe easier. It wouldn't make tonight any better, but Prince James would want to get that over with as quickly as Tony did.

All in all, he didn't have to worry. Why had he been worried in the first place? It's not as if they were going to throw a tournament and tell Tony that he was the judge or something equally ludicrous. All he had to do was sit there and not raise a fuss. Father had been right in telling him to do that his entire life, but Tony had wanted more. He'd wanted to believe that his life would be more than that. That he wouldn't merely be a pin in an alliance or an ornament for Prince James's arm. He'd wanted to be an equal, to rule alongside his husband, not sit in the garden and think about which flowers he wanted brought in.

He'd been wrong, but then, he’d already had that revelation.

"It's all right," Tony said, as Prince Buchanan rubbed at his eyes and said again that he was forgetting one of the events in the tournament. "I'll be able to see it in a few days. Thank you."

"Anytime," he said, and it sounded like he meant it genuinely.

Tony had thought that Prince Buchanan held him some sort of ill will. He was thinking, now, that Prince Buchanan didn't feel ill will towards much of anyone. Yes, he'd talked to his brother about him in a way Tony was not a fan of, but loyalty to Prince James could easily explain that. They had known each other their entire lives, and they were close-- had likely always been close.

He finished his dessert and put his fork down on it around the same time that Prince James returned. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Prince Buchanan and Prince James share a look, but he wasn't sure how much they were able to communicate with that. Certainly nothing about what Tony had just told Prince Buchanan about being nervous.

Prince James settled back into his seat. Tony noticed that he hadn't been served any of that horrible dessert and instead was given a small bowl of fruit. Was that an option for him? Why hadn't anyone told him about that? He gladly would've taken fruit instead of whatever the fuck that dessert was supposed to be. It was probably supposed to taste the way it did, but that didn't mean it was good. Strangely crunchy, and some sort of paste that mostly succeeded in tasting like mush. Prince James picked through the fruit quickly, not taking any of the time to stop and savor the flavor between bites.

"Are you finished eating?" Prince James asked, pretty much the second after he finished swallowing the last piece of fruit.

"Yes," Tony said.

"We should leave to our rooms soon."

"All right." It's not like he could say no flat out, and the only way he could buy more time is if he either claimed an illness or wanted more to eat. Claiming an illness would be more of an embarrassment for him than anything else, and he was certainly not going to ask for another dessert. It would only delay their wedding night for another ten minutes, at most. Ten minutes wasn't worth suffering through another dessert. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Prince James gave a tight nod, then leaned over to say something to the King. They exchanged a few sentences back and forth, and then Prince James sat back into his chair. "Ready?" he asked.

This was more than Prince James had said to him all day. He wanted to remark upon it, but it would only antagonize him. Antagonizing Prince James was not something he wanted to do right now, not when they were going to be spending a night together for the first time. "Yes." God, he was going to be spending the night with someone. Prince James was going to see him naked. He was going to touch Tony while he was naked. He was not at all ready for this, but there was nothing to be done for it.

Prince James held out a hand to Tony, and he took it. They stood together, and everyone watched them leave. After that, it was only the Prince's Guard that followed them, and they stopped at the hallway as Tony and Prince James walked to their rooms. Their rooms were connected, but the door between them had always been locked. After tonight, the door would be unlocked unless Prince James wanted to keep it impassable. For the first time-- but probably not the last-- Tony bypassed his room and went to the doorway that led directly to Prince James's.

They were still hand in hand. Prince James opened the door and gestured for Tony to go in first. It was only then, when Prince James went to close the door behind the two of them, that he let go of his hand. He locked the door.

Tony could either sit back and let this happen to him, or he could try to participate. He knew wich one he'd prefer, so when Prince James turned to face him, Tony was there. He rested a hand on Prince James's chest and looked up at him. Tony wasn't short, but it felt like he was compared to Prince James. Tony wasn't small, but he wasn't big either.

Prince James was big. He was also handsome.

Tony had tried not to think about it. First he'd made a fool of himself when he met Prince Buchanan, and then he'd learned that Prince James wanted someone that was nothing like Tony. He hadn't wanted to look at him and find him attractive. He hadn't wanted to look at him and feel anything.

But he was. He looked at Prince James and thought that he was gorgeous. He had stubble lining his face instead of remaining clean shaven as his brother did, and it did nothing to hide the strong line of his jaw. He had a strong brow above eyes such a light blue that they looked like winter clouds. His lips were full, and Tony had felt the plumpness of them for barely a second when they'd kissed at their wedding. If nothing else good happened tonight, at least Tony could enjoy the sight of him. "May I kiss you?" Tony asked.

In response, Prince James leaned down.

Tony tilted his head a little bit more to get the angle right, and their lips met.

They were kissing. Was this how a kiss was supposed to feel? Was Tony supposed to be doing something else now that it had been a few seconds? Touching himself hadn't given him any preparation for kissing.

Prince James pulled back, put a hand on the side of Tony's face, then kissed him again. Oh that felt good. Tony's lips parted, and a second later, Prince James's tongue was in his mouth.

Tony moaned without really meaning to. He'd wanted to get through tonight with his dignity intact. Or as intact as he could manage. It was hardly his fault that it felt good though-- and good in a way he hadn't been able to predict. Masturbating hadn't prepared him for this in the slightest, a thought that was reinforced when Prince James put an arm around his waist and pulled him closer so their fronts were flush against each other.

In his estimation, Prince James wasn't kissing him like he didn't find him attractive. It felt too consuming, too passionate. For the first time since Tony had arrived, it felt like Prince James wanted him. He kissed him deeper and held him tight like he never wanted to let him go.

That being said, it was possible that this was mediocre kissing and Tony just didn't realize it. Maybe this was how Prince James kissed people he wasn't attracted to. Tony couldn't ask, and he wouldn't want to know the answer even if he could ask him. He was going to pretend, for tonight, that Prince James liked him, wanted him. If things continued like this, it wouldn't be hard. He was already thickening in his trousers, feeling more aroused after a few kisses than he had with years of only his hand for pleasure.

"Can I touch you?" Prince James asked.

"You're already touching me."

"Not where I want to be," he whispered.

That... was surprising. His voice was rough with arousal, and Tony swallowed reflexively. He nodded. He didn't want to say 'please', but he would if that's what Prince James wanted from him.

Prince James moved his hands, palming Tony's backside as he kissed him again. Kissed him thoroughly until Tony felt as if he was the one that had eaten the fruit, the taste of it thick on his tongue. He rubbed against Tony, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine and through his fingertips.

Almost too quickly-- for Tony quite enjoyed what they were doing, kissing and moving against each other-- Prince James pulled back and started tugging at the sparse ties holding Tony's shirt together. In Manhatten, getting undressed would've taken ages. Far more ties on all of the clothes, and all of them were more complex. Brooklian clothes were, by comparison, far easier to deal with. It meant that Prince James was able to get his shirt off in between quick kisses. When the shirt was open, Prince James pushed his hands inside and moved the fabric aside so it fell off of Tony's shoulders.

He had to bring his arms back so it could leave him entirely, but almost as soon as he did it, he wished that he had kept it on and waited for Prince James to take it the rest of the way off. Letting it drop to the ground like that made him seem eager. He was, in a way, but he was also scared. The next piece of clothing to go would be his trousers, and Prince James reached for the ties holding it closed as he kissed him again. He undid the ties on his trousers while kissing Tony, like he'd done this to someone else enough times that it was second nature to him.

He finished untying Tony's trousers, but he didn't push them down or reach inside. He pulled his hands back to himself and leaned away for long enough that he could undo the ties on his own shirt.

Tony reached to help, but with his nerves and how unfamiliar the clothing was to him after only a week of use, he only got one done by the time Prince James had finished the rest on his shirt. He grabbed Tony's hands in his own and leaned down to kiss him again. His lips had never seen this much use, and they were sore from all the pressure of Prince James's mouth. He would never choose to stop though, not when it was being offered to him, so Tony kissed him back and wondered if it was as obvious as it felt that he did not know what he was doing.

Prince James pulled him close again, and Tony jumped a little in surprise when their skin pressed together. At his jump, Prince James pulled away slightly. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Tony met his eyes and couldn't look away.

He'd thought only minutes ago that Prince James's eyes were the brightest he'd ever seen, and now his pupils had grown so large they barely left any color left.

"I'm fine," Tony said.

Prince James raised a hand and brushed the knuckles of one hand against Tony's cheek. "Are you sure?"

Tony nodded and leaned in for another kiss that Prince James readily gave.

His hands moved back to Tony's body as they kissed, smoothing his palms down his back. He stopped at the small of his back and didn't go further down until Tony had relaxed again-- he didn't realize that he had tensed up until he started to relax. His hands went lower then, slipping under the fabric. He moved slowly, so Tony knew what was going to happen and could prepare himself for it.

Prince James gave an appreciative moan then, the first noise he'd made since they started kissing. Tony didn't realize that he'd been the only one making noises until then, and it was embarrassing. Even quiet and half-bitten off as they'd been. Had Prince James thought it was annoying? Or maybe it meant that Tony had been enjoying himself long before Prince James had started to.

He didn't care to think about that.

He moved his hips so that he pushed himself into Prince James's hands. His grip tightened, and he let out another small moan. Good. That was good, Prince James liked him. Or at least he was starting to enjoy him, which was enough for Tony.

"On the bed?" Prince James asked. It wasn't quite an order, and it wasn't quite asking if that's where he wanted to have sex. They would end up there at some point tonight. He was asking if Tony was ready to move there now.

No point in waiting, he figured, and he nodded. He was as ready as he was going to be tonight. Tony walked to the edge and sat down, then bent over and took off his shoes. He had to stand to get out of his trousers and underpants, but then he sat back on the bed and scooted towards the middle.

Prince James, he noticed, had undone the ties on his trousers, but they were otherwise in place. He climbed onto the bed and over Tony, pushing him into the mattress. He was a heavy weight on top of Tony, and it made his heart beat faster. He didn't know if it was in excitement or fear. He'd be lying if he said that it didn't make his blood run hotter to feel Prince James on top of him, but the closer they got to having sex, the more nervous he was. Was this how everyone felt their first time? If they did, it didn't make any sense for Tony to have been forced to wait. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to be comfortable right now instead of a jittering mess?

He was trying to make himself relax when Prince James pulled away to kiss his neck. "Oh," he breathed. That was... quite nice.

One of his hands tangled in Prince James's long hair, but he let go a few moments later when Prince James went lower, kissing down his chest. He didn't stop until his head was level with his hands on Tony's hips. He moved his mouth towards Tony's cock, and Tony knew, intellectually, what that sort of move meant, but he couldn't keep from jerking when Prince James's tongue made contact.

Prince James pulled back, blinking. One of his hands moved to the mattress instead of Tony's hip, and he rested his weight on it, propped up so he could see Tony's face more clearly. "Are you alright?"

Tony wanted to cover himself back up. Or just drag Prince James back up to kissing him, because that had been much easier to deal with. He would've been able to deal with someone else's hand on him, so long as Prince James kept kissing him like he enjoyed his company. Granted, he'd been touching Tony like he enjoyed his company ever since they closed the door, but it had been easier for Tony to focus on kissing him and how much he liked it instead of whatever Prince James's hands were doing that he didn't feel ready for. Without anything to hold onto and feel as if he wasn't completely exposed, all of his nerves were back.

But he couldn't say that. They needed to have sex tonight, and Prince James was making him feel good, even if, in a perfect world, he would've liked to ask for more time-- another night or two, that's all he would've requested. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that."

They stared at each other.

In a divergence from how their conversations usually went, Prince James was the one to speak, not Tony. "Am I going too fast?"

That was a perfect excuse. "I wouldn't mind going a little bit slower," Tony said diplomatically.

Prince James moved back up where he'd been before, his body covering Tony's.

Kissing. Yes, this is where Tony had wanted him back. Already, he could feel the knot in his stomach loosen. He might be able to convince Prince James to let both of them get off like this. It would help if he knew exactly what Prince James expected from him tonight. Did both of them need to finish and that was it? Or did he want to fuck Tony? If Tony were capable of bearing children, then it would definitely be required, but since he couldn't, he didn't know. He was so ill prepared for this marriage that it was ridiculous, because he'd known where he was going to end up his entire life and yet he hadn't received any training for it beyond what he scrounged together for himself.

Prince James seemed to have made a mission out of how many spots he could find on Tony's body that made him run hot or go boneless.

He was working up the courage to tell Prince James that he could take off his own trousers when Prince James said, "You're beautiful," and he jerked. There was no hiding it. It wasn't like being touched along his ribs, where it had tickled and could easily be explained as such. No one jerked like that in pleasure of a compliment. He called him beautiful, as if Tony didn't know that that was a lie. As if he hadn't explicitly told his brother that Tony wasn't what he'd expected.

Prince James had his mouth on Tony's collarbone as he said it. His lips had brushed against Tony's skin with every motion. It was easy to feel then, that he'd frozen at Tony's reaction.

"Sorry," Tony said, and he curled his hand around Prince James's arm, hoping that it would be enough to get him to continue without questioning it.

Prince James kissed his skin again. Tony was about to breathe out in relief, but then Prince James said, "Has no one told you that you're beautiful before?"

"Never in a situation like this," he said, which was the truth for once. People had been calling him beautiful (or gorgeous or handsome) since about the age of fifteen. They had all known what Tony did: that it could never go anywhere. He wasn't even sure any of them thought it, only that they said it to him.

Prince James's mouth moved higher, towards the curve of Tony's neck once more. "How is that possible?"

Despite himself, Tony chuckled. "Rather easily."

"You confuse me."

Whatever humor Tony felt evaporated. "I do not mean to."

Prince James tilted Tony's face towards him and kissed him on the mouth. Lots of tongue, as if he had forgotten what Tony tasted like and needed to refamiliarize himself.

When he pulled back to breathe, Tony said, "Do you plan on wearing clothes all night?"

"You said slow."

"And it's been slow. I'm ready." As ready as he could possibly be, that is. He could ask Prince James for a bit more time tonight and get it, but he could not be more comfortable than he was now.

Prince James kissed him again. Instead of reaching down to take off his trousers, he wrapped a hand around Tony.

He was more prepared for the touch this time, so he didn't flinch away.

"Just this?" Prince James asked, pumping him slowly. "Or do you want more?"

"You assume I know what more is," Tony said without thinking.

His hand slowed to a stop. "What?"

Tony moved his eyes from the ceiling to look at Prince James. "What?"

He put space between them, lifting off of him so he was hovering above instead of laying on. It left Tony feeling cold, exposed to the air instead of covered by a warm body. "You have done this before?"

Was he trying to get Tony to admit that he'd broken the contract? Was that seriously why he'd been acting so nice every since the door closed? To trick Tony into saying that he hadn't followed the contract and therefore their marriage could be nullified? It's not the route Tony would've gone in his place for two reasons. 1. He hadn't broken the contract, and he therefore couldn't admit to having broken it. 2. It would've been much smarter to get out of the marriage before the wedding took place, not after. "Of course not."

"Of course not?" Prince James repeated, frowning in confusion. He sat up, leaning back on his feet and putting more space between them.

"I wasn't permitted to. It's in our marriage contract."

"You've never had sex before."

"No."

Prince James moved completely away from him then. "You should've told me," he said. Tony hadn't noticed the hint of warmth that had been in his voice until it vanished as he said that.

"I assumed you knew."

"Hm."

That was not a good hum. Tony needed to fix this and fast. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "It doesn't matter, does it? I was meant to be innocent for you-"

"Innocent," Prince James said with a derogatory snort.

Tony tried and failed to keep from being hurt by that. "It was our understanding that you wanted a partner who wasn't sullied by past encounters." That's how Mother had explained it to him, at least.

"Instead, I got someone clueless."

He wanted to snap at him that if he'd had his way, he would've had plenty of sex by now. He wouldn't even be here, if the choice had been his. Hurt pulsed through his chest as physical pain. This is where he was, and he was married to Prince James. He needed to make the best out of this situation, even if all he wanted was to redress and go back to his own bed. "Prince James, if you wish to never touch me again, that is well within your right, but we do need to consummate the marriage."

"Do we," Prince James said flatly.

That didn't make any sense. Of course they needed to. "Yes? It's in our marriage contract that we-"

"I'm not touching you." He said it with a note of finality in his voice. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over.

He had no idea how he'd lost control of the situation so completely. Just because he thought the conversation was over didn't mean that Tony had to agree with it. He ignored the shamed blush rising to his face and reached out for his shoulder and said, "Prince James, if you-"

As soon as Tony's fingers started to make contact, Prince James pulled away. Dodged his hand then got to his feet. He walked over to a table near the door and picked up the pitcher, pouring himself a cup of wine and downing it. Then he poured himself another. His shoulders were tight, and Tony couldn't even enjoy the sight of his muscles flexed and bunched together. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"What?"

Prince James tilted his head back and drained his second cup. He didn't pour a third, but Tony wasn't sure that was a blessing.

"The servants will talk if they see that we did not fall asleep in the same bed," Tony said. 

He could give it a second chance in the morning, and he would have better luck then. After a good night's sleep and a few cups of wine, Prince James would be in a more amenable mood, and they could have sex then. 

Even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't work. If Prince James was anyone else-- or perhaps if Tony were anyone else-- then it would work. But it was the two of them, and the most they'd gotten along was when Tony hadn't said a word. He should've continued with that success, but he'd started to relax. He'd thought, foolishly, that Prince James wanted for him to be honest, and so he'd responded with the truth and not simpering pleas of how much he wanted it.

"I wake before the servants come in here," was all Prince James said.

Humiliated. That's what this feeling was. He'd felt it before, but only a few times had it been this bad. So much heat had risen to his face that he was sure he looked as though he had a dreadful sunburn. Tony had never thought of himself as a very proud man-- his measure for that had been his brother Gregory, whose ego knew no bounds-- but he felt, rather suddenly, that he'd been dragged down off his peak and discarded on the ground.

Prince James had rejected him. Completely. He'd barely looked at Tony before they entered the room together, and now he was back to not looking anywhere near him. For a few moments, Tony had felt like he knew how their marriage would be. Those ideas had been pulverized.

How did he keep doing this? He kept letting go of hope for his relationship with Prince James, only to find some grain of affection. Then his hopes would revitalize themselves to be smashed into a powder shortly after. Again and again, and he'd only been here a week. How long would it take until he finally got the message? It had taken years for him to understand that his family didn't care about him, but he'd been a child for a large portion of that time. He was a man now. It shouldn't take him half as long to understand his place here. So long as he kept reminding himself that Prince James didn't want him the second he started to feel hope, he would be fine. 

For now though, there was no getting around the shame of having been so utterly rejected. Tears welled in his eyes, hot and insistent. He couldn't stop them from falling, making his face sticky and unpleasant. But what did it matter? Prince James wasn't looking at him, and even if he was, Tony couldn't possibly be less attractive to him.

"I won't touch you," Tony muttered. "I'm not going to keep you from your bed."

"I will not-"

"Just sleep in the fucking bed," Tony cut in, rubbing at one of his cheeks as it started to itch.

Prince James didn't say anything.

"I'll go back to mine since the idea of sharing with me is so unbearable to you," he said. He got off the bed and pulled on his underwear. "Plenty of couples consummate the marriage and then separate." He started to gather up the rest of his clothes, but that was more defensive than it was necessary. He didn't want to give Prince James any extra reason to be upset with him, otherwise he could've waited for a servant to gather and clean them tomorrow.

"You said you didn't want the servants to talk."

"You can't look at me. Everyone will know this is not a happy union," Tony said. "It hardly matters if the servants know what everyone else can see." He rubbed at his other cheek. Why did crying have to be such a miserable affair? Was it not enough that he'd been pushed beyond what he could handle? He had to humiliate himself further by making this spectacle? His only comfort was that he wasn't sobbing. His tears were silent, at least, and his breath even.

He didn't want for Prince James to respond; it's not like his darling husband responded most of the time anyways. He opened the door connecting their rooms, his wedding outfit bundled together in his arms, held close to his body so he had some manner of coverage without getting redressed.

He closed the door behind him, then buried his face in his clothes, stifling a sob. Somehow, he'd managed to make the night go from acceptable to an utter disaster. Whatever goodwill Prince James had initially had for him was now gone. It had to be, after the way Tony had tried to push and been rejected (again).

He should've listened to Father. Quiet and out of the way. That's how everyone wanted him. He didn't need to be honest or accomplished. He didn't need to fill the traditional role of a Crown Prince's spouse. He just needed to be out of the way.

Tony had always wanted to be more than that, and he thought that he'd be good at it. He'd been so sure that he would be good at it, that he had only briefly considered the possibility of staying out of the way before dismissing it.

He should stop thinking that he'd done anything right. In his entire life, it was starting to look like the only correct thing he'd done was learn Brooklin. He thought that Prince James liked Summer, but he was no longer certain enough about it to add it to the list of what he'd done properly.

Everything else, he'd done wrong. Learning to swim? What good was that possibly going to do for him? If Prince James liked him, then yes, it would be a way for them to spend time together when the days were hot and the water was a fun escape. Sword fighting? Yes, in Brookliana they valued their soldiers, but Tony was not and never would be a fighter for them. He'd spent so many days in the sun that his skin had tanned unevenly around his clothes and left faint freckles across his shoulders. Whatever chance he'd had at fair skin from his mother was long since destroyed. Reading about their trade routes and which crops thrived on their lands? There were counselors for that. People with far more experience that they would trust more than him.

Tony was a symbol. No, not even a symbol. He wasn't a symbol of the unity between their countries. He was a pin to help keep the wheel running smoothly. That's all. A small piece that, while necessary, was hardly the most important. Take him away, and the wheel would be able to roll for a time before it needed a replacement.

He'd wanted to be important. He'd wanted to be loved.

What he'd done was have dreams beyond his reach.

It took him a long time to get to sleep. He was physically uncomfortable from how close he'd gotten to having sex only to never finish, not to mention the headache that sprang behind his eyes from crying. His face still itched from the tears, and his stomach hurt from keeping quiet as he continued to cry. He let his tears soak into the shirt from his wedding outfit. It was symbolic, wasn't it? He might get a wry chuckle from himself in the morning when he thought about it. Or maybe he'd keep feeling like horse shit dumped unceremoniously on a walkway.

He could do this, he thought, as he turned fitfully from one side onto his other. He could keep his mouth shut. He'd been looking forward to being here where he wouldn't have to do that, but he'd gotten plenty of practice in Manhatten. He could do it, and he now knew from experience that things only went to shit with Prince James when he opened his mouth.

That was the plan he had. Stay quiet, and stay out of the way. 

It wasn't the plan he'd ever wanted to have to implement here, but it was a plan that should work. ‘Should’ being the most important word in that sentence. He wasn't confident in anything right now, least of all himself and his supposed cleverness. He'd give it a try and see how it took. It wouldn't even be that suspicious for Tony to be different after his wedding as compared to before. He thought that he could swing it. He hoped. No, no more hope. That was just setting himself up for failure; all it had done so far was make him mess up in the most spectacular fashion he could manage. He could do it, but he didn't know if it's something that would appease Prince James. He would wait and see, and that was all he could do.

He'd gotten too comfortable. Lord Stane had showed up, and Tony was so used to everything going smoothly when he was around that he hadn't considered the situation properly. Obadiah was here as a guest. It wasn't his holding or the castle that Tony had grown up in. Obadiah likely didn't know much if anything about the situation here. He couldn't possibly have handled things when he knew nothing and wasn't in a position of power in Brookliana's court besides.

No, this was Tony's failure, and his failure alone. It had been the first time that the situation rested entirely on him, and he'd failed because he'd been following his gut more than his head. No amount of cunning now would erase the last six hours from Prince James's memory.

Tony woke up in the morning and wished that he hadn't. 

He'd had the presence of mind not to fall asleep clutching his wedding clothes like a baby with a favored toy, so he was going to take that as a win. Dawn was starting to creep in, bringing almost no light to his room. It was enough though, that he didn't try to get back to sleep.

His head throbbed as if he'd overindulged in drink despite his only having one glass at dinner. He'd only cried this much once before, when his first horse had died and he hadn't understood, at first, why his stallion couldn't simply get back up after resting for a few nights.

He lit a few candles, washed his face, then checked his appearance in the mirror. It showed that there were dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep, but there didn't seem to be any lingering signs of him crying. Lack of sleep could easily be explained away-- and would be without a single question aimed his way because it had been their wedding night-- but if it had been obvious he'd been crying, it would be incredibly awkward for everyone.

Normally in the morning, he didn't leave until after his servants came to his door because he didn't want to make them go looking for him, and he was supposed to travel with them at all times until the end of the wedding celebration. Also he liked to sleep in, so thus far, they’d come to his room before he wanted to do anything.

He wasn't going to wait for them today. They would expect him to be in Prince James's rooms, and if they had to go from there over to his own, he didn't want to have to see their faces as they put together their own theories for what had happened. Getting an early start would save him from those looks for a little bit. Plus, he was hungry. He hadn't realized how exhausting crying was. No wonder his sister was always sleep deprived from her dramatics.

He dressed for a morning ride and dropped by the kitchens before heading to the stables. He wouldn't be missed until after he was back, and Butterfingers was the easiest company he had right now. Or ever, to be honest. Butterfingers was a horse, and therefore a great listener that never judged him. Unlike any number of humans he could name.

He munched on an apple they'd given him as he walked over to Butterfingers. He'd grabbed a sugar cube for him, and he handed it over as he finished his apple. Butterfingers happily ate the sugar as Tony grabbed his saddle.

Chapter Text

Yasha had fallen in love once. He had been old enough to know better. To know better in so many different ways.

Yes, most obviously he was promised to someone else, and not just anyone, but the Prince of another kingdom. Their marriage would help cement the new alliance. It was important, and Yasha had known that, but he'd been eighteen, newly a man and not quite aware of how immovable his role in the kingdom was; he'd still thought of himself as being interchangeable with Bucky despite being told that he was the one that would inherit and Bucky was second in line.

He fell in love with a servant. He'd said some stupid joke aloud to himself, and she had laughed. She had red hair. If she hadn't, he wasn't certain that he would've done more than glance at her and share a smile. But red hair was rare, meaning that either she or her parents had immigrated from Irlish, and he'd been intrigued.

Her name was Natalia, and she accepted his advances after he spent a few weeks surreptitiously watching her. She had thick curves, and he loved the sound of her laugh. He acted something like a fool in those days, willing to do anything to make her laugh a little bit more.

Bucky noticed, but he didn't say anything. Not for months. At first, all he did was smirk and ask if Yasha was enjoying all his time attending to secret business in his rooms that he couldn't be interrupted from. One day, over a year later, he pulled Yasha aside. His expression had been worried, like he thought that his brother had taken leave of his senses. "What do you think you're doing with her? She's a servant, and you're promised to someone else."

"I love her," Yasha said. Plain and simple, he loved her. It was easy to be with Natalia. She made it so easy, and she looked at him like she would care for him no matter the title or what he looked like. They had been together for quite some time, and he could imagine a future with her. A future with her was all he could imagine. Before he'd met her, he couldn't even imagine himself growing old enough to sit on the throne, but now he could see a path his life might lead to. "You are just as capable of marrying the Manhattian Prince as I am."

"And I would do it in an instant if I thought it would bring you happiness, but you can't marry her. Even if that's what you want, even if it's what she wants, you wouldn't be able to. Father would never allow it. A commoner can't be Queen. Or even a Princess," Bucky added when Yasha was about to say that he would abdicate if that's what it took. "I'm not going to tell you that you can't fall in love, or that you can't dally with whoever catches your eye, but you need to remember what your reality is."

"And what would that reality be?" Yasha asked, a touch flatly. He didn't want a lecture from anyone, but least of all from his brother. Not from Bucky, who had always supported him. Always. Until now.

"That you are a Prince, and you're not allowed to marry for love any more than our parents were. Neither of us are."

"They're happy together," Yasha said.

"They're happy together now," Bucky argued. "They were practically strangers when they met. Mother was some nobleman's daughter from the border. He'd seen her a few times but not talked to her. Your husband is going to be the same: a stranger. This servant... you can't have her and be a Prince, and you know it."

Yasha did know it. He nodded at his brother and didn't tell him that he'd been thinking of running away. He and Natalia could leave, to the Summer Isles where they did not have royals or nobles and people could live their lives with whoever they pleased.

He convinced Bucky that he would think on it and be more realistic about his future, and the next day, he found Natalia and told her. Not what Bucky had said, but of his plan, that they could run away together and marry and be as equals as they couldn't be here. "I care for you deeply, James," she said, ‘James’ because she'd said that she liked the name, and he liked how it sounded coming out of her mouth where he had never liked it before, "but it was my understanding that this relationship wasn't serious. You are betrothed, are you not?" Yasha nodded, and she squeezed his hands like she was sorry. "I enjoyed our time together, but this is all I wanted from it. I like where I am. I do not wish for it to change." 

She left to be in a new lord's household soon after that conversation.

He'd been in love; she had not. Or maybe she had been in love with him, but she was aware of their differences in station and hadn't thought more would come from it. He wasn't even mad at her. He'd been living in a dream, and she had been living in reality. She enjoyed his affection, and someday she'd be able to tell her friends that she had caught the attention of a Prince.

He didn't mention the end of the affair to Bucky, and he certainly did not disclose the details. He suspected that Bucky knew something of what had happened, because he brought a bottle of vodka to his room one night, and they got drunk together, laughing and talking to each other until Yasha's heartbreak didn't feel so severe. It wasn't the end of his life, it was simply... the end of a time. A time where he'd been silly and overly romantic.

It was less than a year after his relationship with Natalia ended that the Manhattian Prince started writing to him. Prince Anthony. It would be several years until they met, but Prince Anthony said that he wanted to get to know him before their wedding day. It was a worthwhile goal, but Yasha hardly knew how to write a friendly letter. Correspondence with nobles and leaders of the various parts of their military was one thing, writing letters to grow to not only know but come to love a person was entirely different.

Prince Anthony told Yasha so much about himself. He was an interesting person. It seemed with every new letter he sent, he'd mastered some language or scholarship and was on his way to the next one. He tried to answer Prince Anthony's questions, but he knew how boring he would seem in comparison.

He could admit that in the beginning, he didn't have much interest in him. He didn't like writing letters, he didn't care to learn, and he was still sore from the split with Natalia. After so long of his short, awkward responses, Prince Anthony stopped trying so hard. He still wrote to him often and about the same topics, but it was clear to Yasha that he wasn’t expecting any interaction. He added in idle details, like how the weather had been and that his favorite necklace had broken. Prince Anthony didn’t expect for Yasha to give him a good reply, but he kept writing letters anyway. 

When the time came for Yasha to choose a wedding gift for Prince Anthony, his only clue for what he might like was a necklace. It would be a fine idea if he knew what the necklace had looked like. Instead, he'd had to ask Bucky what kind of necklace he thought a man might like. He was no help, but at least Yasha hadn't been alone in his confusion, with dozens of options laid out in front of him and no way of knowing which one would look good on Prince Anthony's neck. He didn't even know what color his eyes were, much less if his complexion looked better with gold or silver.

He went with a necklace that matched the Crown Prince's colors and hoped it would be enough. Manhattians were usually blonde, weren't they? Blue gems would look good with light hair.

He met Prince Anthony, and his stomach sank. He wasn't blonde. He had dark hair and dark eyes. The necklace he'd bought him had been an entirely wrong choice, but he couldn’t exchange it for another and it's not like he had anything else to do with it.

The necklace wasn’t his first thought when he saw who he was to marry, though. His first thought was that he was handsome. He hadn't dared hope, but he was. He looked at Yasha and smiled, and he felt a familiar lightness in his chest. He'd felt bad enough as it was, having to send Bucky to greet him instead of being able to do it himself, but he couldn't very well leave Matthais alone with the healers when it was his fault that he'd been injured.

Prince Anthony smiled, and he spoke Brooklin fluently. The accent couldn't be helped, but it wasn't as thick as Yasha had expected for it to be. He must've spent ages working on it, making sure that he'd be able to speak it perfectly by the time their wedding came. He'd put in so much effort into this, and Yasha had been unable to return any of that effort. He hadn't expanded his Manhattian vocabulary. He hadn't tried to make his letters longer, to give Prince Anthony the same effort back that he'd been giving.

Despite the horrible first impression Yasha made, he had hope for their relationship. There was an initial attraction between them, and he had faith that they would grow closer.

Except... Bucky.

Yasha loved his brother. With all his heart, he loved his brother. He was the closest friend he had ever had and ever would have, and he felt a loyalty to him that was unlike anything else he felt for another person-- his friendship with Steve couldn’t come close. He loved Bucky, and he knew that Bucky loved him as much in return.

But everyone liked Bucky more than him. He was friendly and approachable where Yasha struggled to carry a simple conversation. He was handsome. Technically, Bucky and Yasha had the same face and the same body, but everyone found Bucky more attractive. Natalia had been the only person Yasha had been with that didn't let their eyes linger on Bucky first. Bucky preferred men far more than woman, and he wasn't as willing to hop into bed with someone as Yasha was. Someone would flirt with Bucky, he'd gently reject them, and then they'd turn to Yasha. He was a good second choice, but he was the second choice in this, not the first.

Yasha had long since accepted this. Or at least, he thought that he had accepted it. It had never bothered him very much because if he had to choose between the two of them, he would also choose Bucky.

He thought that he was at peace with it until they sat down for dinner, and Yasha saw his brother and his fiance in the same room for the first time. He saw the way Prince Anthony's eyes went to Bucky. He'd seen it happen enough times, with a wide enough variety of people that he knew what it meant in seconds. He shouldn't blame him for it because he knew that Bucky was the more handsome one, and he had never blamed anyone for preferring Bucky in the past. 

He shouldn't blame Prince Anthony for it. 

He did. Despite all reason, he wanted for Prince Anthony to want him. He'd given him no reason to prefer Yasha, but he still wanted it.

It was as they were sat at dinner that Bucky asked, in Vunitian so they could speak freely, "So what do you think of him?" 'Him' meaning Prince Anthony, of course.

He could hardly say that he had liked him fine until he saw the way Prince Anthony looked at Bucky. He didn't want for his brother to feel guilty about it, and that's surely what would've happened if he told him. Bucky wasn't very observant; the chances were that he'd only know that Prince Anthony liked him if someone said it to his face; Yasha would not be the one to tell him, and no one else would think it their place.

Yasha admired Prince Anthony. Countless hours of work studying Brooklin and who knew what else. He'd mentioned horseriding in his early letters, but Yasha knew there was more to it so he said, "He has calluses on his hands."

Bucky nodded. Then, because he was an ass who knew why Yasha had phrased it that way, he pointed out, "You haven't given him a chance to show what he's capable of."

Well, no. He'd been here less than a day, and he could hardly tell Prince Anthony to impress him with whatever he'd learned. "He isn't like they said he'd be," Yasha said, then shoveled a piece of meat into his mouth so that Bucky wouldn't keep asking him questions. The more he told Bucky, the more he would tease him. He was already mocking Yasha for talking about Prince Anthony's interest in horseback riding.

And it was true-- no one had told him that Prince Anthony was accomplished in physical pursuits. The image they'd woven for him had been of a bookish Prince that preferred the library to venturing outside. He was glad that Prince Anthony was not like that; he wouldn't know what to do with a spouse that shared no interests with him.

When he swallowed, it wasn't Bucky that spoke next, but Prince Anthony. "What are you discussing?" he inquired politely.

"Border duty," they answered, knowing that whatever they might have gone on to talk about was now gone. It was in Yasha's best interest that they couldn't keep talking. If he could kiss Prince Anthony for it, he would. Well... he wasn't sure he would kiss Prince Anthony if he could. He was still stinging from the realization that Prince Anthony would prefer to marry Bucky. He stopped looking over at him after that, because he didn't want to see Prince Anthony struggle to keep his attention on Yasha instead of Bucky.

He'd thought, after that night, that his marriage to Prince Anthony was little more than a lost cause. But then Prince Anthony gifted him a horse, a beautiful mare. She really was the most gorgeous horse that he'd ever laid eyes on. A kingly gift with how her hair looked golden in the sunlight falling into her stall.

"I know that you already have a horse of your own, but," Prince Anthony said awkwardly, as if in apology. He shrugged, looking oddly uncomfortable even though he was clearly in his element here. "I didn't know what else to get you," he said, ashamed.

Ashamed. Of giving Yasha the most wonderful horse he'd ever seen. He hadn't ridden her yet of course, so it was possible that they would not match well but it seemed unlikely that Prince Anthony could make such a mistake. "I felt the same when choosing a gift for you," Yasha admitted. The difference between them was that Prince Anthony's gift to him was perfect, and Yasha's was, in a word, horrible. "If you tell me what you would like, I shall see if I can get it for you before the wedding celebration is over." He would be hard pressed to acquire it in time if he wanted something of equal value to the horse, but Prince Anthony deserved it.

"I'm sure whatever you picked will be more than satisfactory," Prince Anthony said kindly.

"It isn't." He was sure of it. He'd told Prince Anthony in one of his sparse replies that he loved horseriding, and so he had given him a beautiful horse. Prince Anthony had told him of various things he liked, and what had Yasha gotten for him? A necklace. A thing that could be worn by anyone and meant little to nothing. Yes, Prince Anthony had told him that he had lost a necklace that he liked, but the one Yasha had gotten for him- well, the only thing it had in common with his last necklace was that it was a necklace. He had no reason to think it was the same style, the same coloring, or the same jewels.

What he'd gotten for Prince Anthony was, in comparison to the gift he'd received, an insult.

Prince Anthony tried to insist that whatever gift Yasha had gotten for him would be fine, and he didn't want to argue it. He couldn't very well get him something else now without some guidance. Better to go with the first, worse gift than attempt a second and have it be equally bad. He wished that Prince Anthony would talk to him. He said plenty of words, but he was making nice and playing pretend. He wasn't saying what he truly thought. He wasn't telling Yasha what he preferred so that he could try to make him happy.

It was Yasha's own fault for not putting in the effort sooner. If he'd tried to get along with Prince Anthony over the letters, then it would be easier for them to talk now. Still, he wished that Prince Anthony wouldn't make this so difficult for him, even though he knew he deserved it.

When Lord Obadiah Stane of Greenwich arrived for the wedding, Bucky came and told him, looking troubled.

"We should've expected for a noble from Manhatten to arrive," Yasha said, but he wasn't happy about it. He especially wasn't happy that it was Lord Stane, of all people. The man was as trustworthy and slippery as an eel. He didn't outright want war, but a little discontent in a country such as Brookliana would serve him well.

"He and Prince Anthony appeared quite close."

Damn it all. "What?"

"They embraced. Later, they went into the garden so they could speak in private."

"Fuck," Yasha breathed. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired. He was supposed to marry Prince Anthony tomorrow, and in spite of how much time he'd spent with him that morning, they had yet to have a successful conversation. He didn't want to argue with him the night before their wedding, but it seemed that he had little choice in the matter. "I'll talk to him."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Yasha fixed his brother with a flat look. "Is it better or worse than letting them be friends?"

"I just want you to think about this before you try to tell him who he can and can't talk to you. Lord Stane is the only person from Manhatten to arrive, so far. We've been told not to expect anyone from the royal family. Not a single one of them. Lord Stane might be the closest thing he has to family. Do you really want to insult him? I know, I know," Bucky said, cutting Yasha off before he could say anything, "Lord Stane is as trustworthy as a counterfeit coin. But if you only had one person in the world that cared to come to your wedding, and your husband-to-be-- who, I might add, you're not getting along with very well-- tells you not to trust them? Yasha, you wouldn't hear him out. If Prince Anthony told you not to trust me, you wouldn't listen to a word he said."

"I'll be delicate," Yasha grumbled. He took one look at Bucky's face. "Don't give me that look, I can be delicate."

"Good luck," Bucky said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't need luck."

He... could've used the luck, it turned out. It could've gone much worse, and he knew that. He was thankful for it, but still. It could have gone better. He gave Prince Anthony the stupid necklace, and his fiance smiled at him like it was more than he'd expected from him and was grateful for it. Yasha had barely tried, and Prince Anthony thanked him for it.

Whatever smidgen of luck he’d used on that conversation, he wished that he had saved it for the next night.

He was nervous. Prince Anthony was nervous. He didn't want to see if Prince Anthony was looking at Bucky-- rather, how often he was looking, because he didn't doubt that he would be looking-- so he didn't look at him at all. Having sex with someone that had wanted Bucky first had never bothered him before. He'd preferred it that way actually, because it took very little effort on his part. No extended seduction where he could chase people away with how little he said or the manner in which he said things.

It was different with Tony. He didn't want to say the wrong thing, so he took time, trying to think of what to say, only to get nervous and blurt out the first thing that came to mind anyways.

Normally, at celebrations, Yasha liked to drink. Hell, him and Bucky would match drinks all night until they fell over or someone cut them off-- 'someone' was always Mother because she cared when they were making buffoons of themselves, whereas Father thought it was funny or a good mark of future kingship or something (he wasn't actually sure, all he knew was that Father never stopped them, and he didn't chastise them for it).

He wasn't drinking tonight. Not much. He had a cup or two then made himself stop before he could keep going, but Bucky had no such restriction on himself, and was having as much fun as he ever did. 

Prince Anthony deserved for him to be paying attention to him tonight, not stumbling around half drunk. In his nerves, he was still drinking, he was just throwing back countless cups of water. He had to leave to relieve himself, and when he got back, Bucky and Prince Anthony were talking.

He could've interrupted them. He got back quickly enough that he could have, but they hadn't exchanged a word until after Yasha left. Whatever it was they were saying, they didn't want him there for it. He could admit, even through his jealousy, that it didn't look like a particularly intimate conversation. Still. He gave them time to finish before heading back to the table.

They left for Yasha's room. He locked the door and took a bracing breath. He knew what tradition and their wedding contract demanded of them, but it's not as if one of them could get pregnant, and no one would know if they consummated their marriage on the fourth night instead of the first. Prince Anthony had looked as nervous as he felt; he'd be relieved to give it some time.

He turned around, and instead of Prince Anthony keeping several feet between them, he was there, right in front of Yasha. Gently, like Yasha might break if he pressed too hard, Anthony laid a hand on his chest. He looked up at Yasha, his eyes a dark brown that were always unreadable to him, but especially now with the flickering of the torch their only light. "May I kiss you?" Anthony asked.

As if Yasha could say no to that.

He'd thought that Anthony didn't want him; Anthony was not kissing him like a man kissed a person he did not want. If he'd been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about? Maybe he'd been mistaken about Anthony's crush on Bucky- and- and-

That was all he had thought for because Anthony was encouraging him, and his head was full of only Anthony-- how he felt, how he tasted, the feel of his body against Yasha's, and the noises he was making that Yasha would never tire of and hoped to all the gods he could pry more out of him.

It had been going wonderful. He could not have dreamed of a better wedding night for the two of them. Until, that is, he started taking off Anthony's clothes. That's when Anthony started to get twitchy.

He should've known that that was when they should stop for the night. He should've kissed him again and said that they should rest for the night.

Instead, he asked if Anthony was feeling all right, and he said yes. Yasha took him at his word, and he kept taking him at his word. Every time Yasha thought he was uncomfortable, he'd stop and ask, then he received an assurance and went back to what he was doing. It wasn't until he tried to get his mouth on Anthony's cock and his husband flinched that he offered to slow down. He should've offered to stop entirely, but he hadn't been thinking. He wanted Anthony, and Anthony kept saying that he wanted him in return. 

He slowed down. He tried to make Anthony feel as good as he knew how without touching his cock, and it felt like it was working.

And then what he thought he'd realized was turned on its head. He'd thought that, since Anthony had been the one to initiate touch when they were alone and was the one to ask for the kiss, that Anthony wanted him. It's how he'd been acting all night in this room: like he wanted Yasha. Yasha had let that guide his actions.

Anthony didn't want him. He never had. He was here for duty. He'd kissed Yasha because he felt that he had to. He hadn't been allowed to be with anyone else in his entire life. He was a virgin, and he'd still thrown himself into Yasha's arms because he knew that he was supposed to. He didn't like Yasha more than Bucky. Yasha was just... the one he'd been forced to marry.

He pulled away. He wanted to run away. He didn't want Anthony to be sitting in his bed, naked and confused and hurt. 

He couldn't run away, and unfortunately, Anthony was in his bed looking all of those things.

He didn't think it was an unmitigated disaster until Anthony started crying. Yasha froze. He didn't know what to do. He'd never made someone cry before-- out of pain didn't count-- and he'd never wanted to make Anthony cry. His husband deserved so much better from him, and he'd been unable to deliver it.

Anthony shuffled off to his room, looking miserable, and Yasha felt like he should be flogged for making Anthony feel that way. Anthony had only tried to be a good husband and be what he thought Yasha wanted, and how had Yasha repaid him? Well, so far, he'd insulted the only person that came to the wedding specifically on Anthony's behalf, he'd given him a wedding gift that had taken all of two minutes to acquire, and he'd made him cry and basically kicked him out of the room when he was undressed.

Maybe Bucky would do him a favor, and kill Yasha in the morning. Everyone would be happier that way-- except maybe the officiant, who'd have to give another long-winded royal ceremony so soon after the last one.

It took him ages to get to sleep. First, he needed to apologize. Second, he would ask if there was any way Anthony would forgive him, and if the answer was yes, he was going to ask for specifics. Trusting his instincts and what he thought he knew had landed him in his biggest mess to date. He needed step by step instructions of what he should do. Third, he was going to tell Bucky to put him out of his misery-- and his brother could interpret that however he damn well pleased so long as he did it.

He barely got any sleep. If forced to guess, he would say two hours. Horrible. At least, with it being the day after his wedding, people would assume he was tangled up with his new husband in wedded bliss instead of calling himself an idiot for half the night-- with the other half of the night spent wondering if Anthony would ever talk to him again after how he behaved. He'd overreacted and treated Anthony terribly. Waking up didn't make him feel any better about it. The situation didn't look less grim.

He knew that Prince Anthony liked to sleep in late, and after the night he'd had, he deserved it. Yasha wasn't going to wake him up so he could apologize. It would be counter-productive. He'd let him sleep as long as he wanted. He wasn't going to force his presence on him. He would ask for a few minutes of his time once he was free, and if Anthony gave it, he could talk to him then.

He wanted fresh air, so he went out to the stables. He thought about taking a ride but dismissed it. On the off-chance that Anthony asked for him, he wanted to be around. He didn't want to make it look like he was avoiding him. Because, in the time of him not sleeping last night, he'd realized that Anthony might think he was angry at him, and if that was the case, he wanted for him to be sure that it wasn't true.

He visited Summer's stall. She was an amazing gift, perfect, and Yasha didn't deserve her. Same as he didn't deserve the man that had given her to him. Not deserving either of them didn't change the fact that he had both of them in his life, and giving them back simply wasn't an option. Not that he wanted to give Summer back or let Anthony walk out of his life. He just... wished he could be worthy of them. He couldn't change what he'd done last night, but he could start putting more effort in now.

"I don't know what I'm going to say to him," he admitted to Summer.

She snuffled, then ate some of the hay in her stall.

He didn't do anything in particular. He spent time in the stall with her, doing tasks that weren't necessary but took up his time, gave him something to do. He checked her hooves even though the stable hands were more than capable of caring for her. He took a look at her teeth, and she was younger than he'd expected. Anthony must've had his eye on her from the moment she toddled around on the grass, and he'd given her to Yasha.

His guilt wound impossibly higher.

Years before he'd ever gotten here, Anthony had been thinking about him. About what their relationship would be like and what he wanted it to be like. Yasha could've asked. He could've put in ten minutes of effort every month when a letter came in. He wasn't even sure he'd responded to all of the letters that he'd gotten. There had been times when he set it aside and forgot about it for a while before remembering that he should pen a reply.

He'd been... horrible.

He'd always wanted to think of himself as a good man if not one that was easy to get along with, and now he had to face the fact that he wasn't. He usually tried his best, and it was enough. He hadn’t tried with Anthony, and he’d fallen impossibly short. 

Yasha sighed, resting his forehead against Summer's neck, feeling slightly eased by the warmth seeping into him from her fur. "You both deserve better than me," he said in Vunitian, because he’d been in here for a while, and he didn't want for anyone to overhear what he was saying.

Summer didn't move or butt her head against him to make him move, so he stayed like that until he heard someone moving out in the main walkway of the stables. Rather, he heard the horse they were with and knew that, as Crown Prince, he couldn't be seen moping like this. He straightened, giving Summer a grateful pat on her uncovered back. He assumed that it was a stable hand and walked out of Summer's stall so that they could go about their work without his interference.

And then he came face to face with Anthony.

Chapter Text

Well. Of all the luck.

Tony figured that there were worse places to see Prince James for the first time after last night. Like, say, in front of the entire court. At least here, they were alone-- for however long that lasted. The good news was that his ride had settled him, somewhat. The situation was no less bleak, but he didn't feel the despair quite as potently as he had before.

"Good morning," he said quietly. Then he continued walking to the stall so he could put Butterfingers back. It hadn't been a very good ride, but Tony's mind had been wandering, and Butterfingers didn't know this terrain yet.

It had been so long since he said something that he didn't think Prince James was going to reply, but then he said, just as quietly, "Good morning."

Tony could've stopped himself from looking at him in surprise, but he didn't care to. He looked over.

Prince James was looking his direction, but he wasn't looking him in the eye.

Tony led Butterfingers into his stall, and when he came out, Prince James was standing exactly where he'd been before.

"We should-" He stopped himself. Swallowed thickly. "That is, I would like to speak to you in private." A pause as Tony tried to process that. "If you are willing."

"Is this about last night?" Tony asked.

"Yes." Another pause, and Tony didn't say something only because it looked like Prince James was trying to put another sentence together.

He stood there and waited.

"I would like to speak about where we go from here."

It was a smart idea. 

It also wasn't something Tony wanted to do in spite of how smart it was. His gut reaction was to say no. He didn’t want to sit down with Prince James and be vulnerable. 

Even if the conversation was mortifying and he ended up crying again-- he didn't think that Prince James would talk to him in such a way that he would be driven to tears, but he hadn't expected it the first time, either-- it would be a good idea to know where they both stood. If they both understood the role they were fulfilling in public as well as private, they could get through this much easier. "Alright," Tony said.

"We should-" He stopped again. He still wasn't looking at Tony straight on. His gaze had flitted over Tony's face once or twice, but mostly it had been aimed over his shoulder. "Would you like to accompany me to my rooms so we can discuss this?"

There was no better place to talk because they needed somewhere that was completely private, so Tony nodded.

They walked together.

Tony had no idea what he should expect. Prince James had been strangely hesitant all morning, and he didn't know why. Prince James had been very sure of his actions last night. Maybe, like Tony, he'd changed his mind about how to deal with him and was now acting accordingly.

The walk was silent. There was background noise as servants prepared the castle for the morning and various guests began to wake. For the most part though, the castle was asleep. It was still early, and they only saw three other people up and about as they headed to their rooms. Or rather, Prince James's rooms. It was doubtful that they were going to officially connect their rooms. The door between them would remain locked after last night and would stay that way for as long as both of them were staying in those chambers.

"How was your ride?" Prince James asked suddenly.

Tony hadn't been expecting the question and took an awkwardly small step as he fell out of sync. "Refreshing."

Prince James nodded. Then, as if he had to force himself to get the words out of his mouth, he said, "I'm glad."

Tony wanted to ask him what the hell was going on. Since when did Prince James talk to him like this? Or choose to talk to him at all? "Were you waiting for me in the stables?"

"No."

Oh. He'd thought- well, he’d thought that maybe Prince James had been wanting to ask for a moment of his time so they could talk.

"I thought you would still be asleep,” Prince James added a moment later. “You normally are."

"Right." He was, usually. It was true. He'd always been able to force himself out of bed when his training had demanded it, but given the option, he would sleep in and have a slow, lazy morning.

"I wanted time to think before speaking to you."

Tony didn't know what to say. Prince James had said more to him this morning than he had all day yesterday. "Do you always do your thinking in the stables?" he asked, thinking that he could prod more sentences out of Prince James this way.

"No.” 

An awkward pause. If Tony had to guess, he’d say that Prince James had to remind himself that he was trying to talk to him now. 

“I go for a ride when I need to think, but I didn't want you to think that I was avoiding you." Another pause, shorter this time, and Prince James glanced at him, almost nervously. "This was when I thought you were in your rooms. And," he said, looking like talking this much was difficult for him, "I wanted to spend time with Summer."

Tony was touched. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't. Hope started to rear its treacherous head once again. Why did he do this to himself? He should know better. His time in Brookliana alone should’ve proven that to him. He tried to tamp down on it, but it was no use. Prince James gave him that thread of hope, and until he was the one to squash it, it would remain stubbornly alive. 

They reached the corridor where their rooms were. Prince James opened the door and gestured for Tony to go first. He did, even though it reminded him uneasily of last night. It wasn't quite the same since they weren't hand in hand this time. There were other differences, perhaps more important ones, but that was the one that came to mind: they weren’t holding hands. 

Prince James closed the door after he stepped inside. He didn't lock it this time. "I'm sorry for my behavior last night," he said, his gaze aimed a few inches over Tony's shoulder, just as it had been in the stables. "I overreacted and- made assumptions. It was not my intention to offend you."

"Offend me?"

"Yes."

Tony wasn't sure that was the right word. Prince James hadn't offended him last night. He'd humiliated him, but that had seemed more like a side-effect rather than the intention. Prince James had been disappointed in him. In everything about him. Tony hadn't taken it as an offense, but he guessed he could see why Prince James thought that.

"It should've been clear to me that you weren't ready," Prince James said. He looked supremely uncomfortable with having to say all this, but strangely, that made Tony more convinced that this was the Prince's idea and not something he'd been told to do for the preservation of the alliance.

But also, what? "I told you that I was ready."

"You kept flinching when I touched you."

"I was surprised is all."

"You were-" Prince James stopped himself. The confrontational set to his shoulders that he'd started to gain drained away. He stepped to the side and leaned against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face. It was probably the most informal he’d ever looked in front of Tony. When he dropped his arm back to his side, his eyes fixed somewhere near Tony's shoes. "It seemed, looking back on it after you left, that you were scared. Were you not?"

Tony thought about lying. He was used to lying. He opened his mouth and instead admitted, "A little. I didn't know what to expect. I thought you didn't like me, and then as soon as the door closed, it was as if you were attracted to me."

Prince James looked at him then, eyes wide and surprised. "I've been attracted to you from the moment I saw you."

He blinked. He had no idea what to say to that. It sounded like the truth, hearing it now, but he knew that it had to be a lie. He'd heard what the brothers had said to each other. No, they hadn't come out and said the exact words 'I think he’s hideous', but it had been close enough.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about," he said, eyes going back to the floor.

"All right," Tony said, thrown. "What did you want to talk about?"

"What we expect from each other."

"I'm listening."

His brow furrowed, like he hadn't gotten this far.

Tony waited.

And waited.

Prince James eventually looked up at him. "I was expecting for you to tell me what you wanted."

"And you would... agree with me?"

"I-" He stopped. "Negotiate? I suppose?"

Who the hell had decided that this man should be ruling a country. Tony didn't normally think this, but he would be better at ruling than Prince James.

Then he thought that he wasn't being fair. After all, he was basing that on Prince James not knowing how to deal with Tony himself. He hadn't observed anything about him being incapable of ruling.

"How much time are you willing to spend with me?" Tony asked, instead of saying to Prince James's face that he thought he was being kind of stupid by not knowing where he wanted this to go.

Prince James blinked at him, like that wasn't a question he'd been expecting. Why he was surprised by that, Tony didn't know. They couldn't plan anything unless they determined how much time they were going to be spending together. "I have meetings with my father that you can't attend. Bucky and I spend time alone together at least an hour a day. I train twice a day in the yard. Other than that, I suppose I'm free," Prince James said slowly.

"Believe it or not, I am aware of your schedule," Tony said, more dry than he'd meant to be. But fuck, if Prince James wanted for them to talk, then they'd talk and he would have to deal with the consequences. "I meant how much of that free time are you willing to spend with me, either in public, or in private?"

He frowned. "I know."

"What?"

"All of it?" he said, sounding confused.

"Oh. All right, then we should spend most of that time together as we get settled. We don't know that much about each other, and it's best for appearances if it looks like we're in love. While we're on that topic," he said quickly, "we should let everyone believe that we had sex last night."

Prince James nodded.

"Good. If you're willing to share a bed with me until the end of the wedding celebration, that would be best, but we can separate like we did last night and it'll be fine." Fine in the sense that the kingdom wouldn't collapse around them. Not fine for the appearance of a happy union.

"No, we can- do that."

One problem solved, then. "About sex," he said, wishing that he could skip over it entirely but knowing that he shouldn't.

"We don't have to try again."

Yeah. Tony already knew that part. Prince James wanted to make very sure that Tony knew they didn't need to have sex. Tony found the whole thing confusing. Prince James said that he found him attractive, but he didn't want to have sex with him. He'd said that he overreacted last night, but Tony didn't know what part of it had made him overreact. They'd almost talked about it, but Prince James had changed the topic, and Tony wasn't in a hurry to relive the embarrassment. He could let the specifics wait for another day. "Yes, you made that clear. What I meant was that I don't have a problem with you pursuing whoever you want, so long as you're discreet."

"Will you be doing the same?" Prince James asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Are you stupid?" Tony asked, then wanted to smack himself. He should not have said that. His husband was going to get pissed at him, and all this talking and trying to get them on the same page would've been for nothing.

"Apparently,” Prince James said, his tone not giving away any anger. He wasn't offended. That was good, if confusing. “Why would I be allowed to have sex with whoever I want but you're not?"

"Because this is your country, and you're the Crown Prince. If you have sex outside of your marriage, nothing catastrophic will happen. If I'm caught cheating, it jeopardizes the alliance."

"I don't see how it's jeopardizing the alliance if you do it, but not if I do it," Prince James said.

Tony would've thought that he was being goaded into slowly losing his mind, except Prince James sounded honestly confused. "I'm an outsider here. You aren't. If the situation was reversed, and you were the one living in Manhatten with me, I would be able to have sex outside our marriage, but you wouldn't. Do you see?"

"That's stupid."

"Yes." Because it was. Court perception often was.

"I think I understand your point," he said slowly. 

"You should still be discreet. It doesn't reflect well on me, even if it won't jeopardize the alliance."

Silence. He didn't know why Prince James needed time to think about that, but evidently he did. Then he said, "No."

"No what?"

"If you're not allowed to look for someone else, then I won't either."

"That's very fair-minded of you, but ultimately pointless."

More silence.

He figured that Prince James would give in, once he was done thinking. 

"I would like to get to know you," Prince James said, which came out of nowhere. Had their conversation rewound while Tony was waiting for a response? 

"Yes, we already agreed to that."

"I meant courting you. Properly. If you're willing," Prince James said, his words stilted. 

What. "You want to court me?"

"Yes."

"You do realize that we're already married, yes?" Tony said.

One corner of Prince James's mouth tilted up. It was the closest to smiling that Tony had gotten from him, and it sent a small thrill through him. "I am aware. That's why I said properly."

"There was nothing wrong with the way we courted the first time," Tony lied.

"Aside from us not meeting until a week ago, me ignoring most of your letters, and our parents arranging the marriage without consulting either of us?" Prince James was joking. There was a sense of humor under the frigid stares after all.

"Aside from all that, yes," Tony said, grinning. 

"I didn't give you the attention you deserved. I never cared to know you. I should have." He paused, mouth slightly ajar as he tried to think of what to say next, and Tony gave him the time to collect his thoughts.

Maybe that was part of why Prince James hadn't spoken to him much the past week; Tony had kept filling the silence, not giving him time to think about exactly what he wanted to say.

"I can't change the way I acted. I'm trying to make up for it now. If you'll let me."

"So you do want to get to know me?" Tony pressed.

"Yes. I know... some. From your letters. Your love of horses. That you enjoy reading. All the art you've seen. I don't know if the art in your rooms is what you enjoy, though."

"Did you pick those pieces yourself?" Tony asked. He hoped-- hoped, because the hope was back in full force; there was no other option after Prince James asked to court him properly and said (twice!) that he wanted to get to know him-- that the answer was yes and Prince James had thought about him enough to select art for him.

"Only two of them. The rest were chosen by Bucky. He has a better eye for art than I do."

Two pieces were enough to keep Tony in a good mood. He smiled at Prince James. "Still, I appreciate it."

For some reason, Tony's response made Prince James avert his eyes again.

"I'd like that,” Tony said. “For us to get to know each other, I mean." It's what he'd wanted for a long time. Not since the beginning, because he'd been a baby when this began, and then of course there was his pre-teen rebellion, but for the past four years or so, that's what he had wanted. It's what he'd been working towards the entire time. That being said, he wasn't quite ready to jump back into that mindset. The events of last night were like scalding water. He was hesitant to submerge in water again for fear it would burn. He wasn't opposed to dipping his toes in, though. "But while we're doing that in private, I think we should maintain that we're already happily in love in public."

Prince James nodded.

"We can talk again when the wedding celebration is over. See if we need to be more specific about what we're doing."

He nodded again. "Was that all?"

Tony hesitated. On the one hand, it needed to be said. They needed to agree on this, because if anyone other than the two of them was aware of the truth, then it would spread like wildfire. On the other, he didn't know exactly how close the brothers were. Certainly closer than he was with any of his own siblings, but that wasn't saying much. "Are you and your brother very close?"

A pause. "He's my best friend," Prince James said quietly.

Tony grimaced. That wouldn't work, then. Prince James didn't strike him as the kind of person who would keep secrets from his best friend.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, in the same low voice.

In a flash, Tony was back to last night, nervous and unsure of what he wanted or how to express it, stomach a knot and trying to look at Prince James without crumbling under his intense gaze. He blinked, and he was still on his feet. Prince James was standing several feet away, not laying half on top of him on the bed. "No, nothing’s wrong. We're keeping this quiet, yes?"

Prince James nodded.

Tony smiled at him. "Good. I'm going to bathe and get dressed for the day."

He nodded again.

"I'm glad we talked about this, Your Highness." Tony turned to leave through their shared door, but he paused when Prince James spoke.

"You don't have to call me that; you're my husband. You can call me Yasha."

Tony half turned to look at him, unsure how to respond, but Prince James had already turned to the outside door and opened it. He stepped out and closed the door behind himself, leaving Tony alone in his room, feeling distinctly off-kilter. 

He hadn't waited for an answer. Someone else would've offered their nickname and waited for an acknowledgment or an offer to call the other by their nickname, but Prince James... Yasha. Yasha had said it and left. He removed his presence from the room, leaving Tony with no pressure to offer the same to him. Well, no immediate pressure. They'd see each other again, and Tony would think about how he didn't tell Yasha to call him Tony, but he doubted, given the conversation they just had, that his husband would bring it up.

Yasha.

It made him sound softer. Less like ice. Still winter perhaps, but winter in the way it felt bundled in a blanket in front of a roaring fire.

Tony shook himself out of those thoughts and continued to his rooms. He noticed, without really wanting to, that Prince James hadn't locked the door last night.

He got dressed for the day, unsure if any part of his outfit matched what a traditional celebration outfit should look like in Brookliana. He did his best, but that didn't mean it was perfect. He went for traditional in Manhattian style, then made a few minor adjustments based on his (admittedly sparse) knowledge of Brooklin fashion. If nothing else, he was wearing the necklace that Yasha had given him. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop him from being the laughing stock of the court. He didn't know anything about these nobles though, and he had-- by the most generous of estimates-- met all of them only yesterday.

His outfit for today would suffice, but he'd have to talk to Yasha soon about getting an entirely new wardrobe. All of his clothes were Manhattian, but they weren't in Manhatten anymore. He needed to start dressing like it now that the wedding had taken place.

He wondered how much he could touch Yasha before he got uncomfortable. He wasn't hoping for much, just a hand on his arm to get his attention or a kiss on his cheek. He should've asked earlier, but he'd been wholly unprepared for the conversation and it hadn’t occurred to him. He hadn't had time to prepare and ask everything that he needed to. 

His main comfort was that they would be able to talk more if they needed to. It wasn't a single conversation for the rest of their marriage. Yasha wanted to get to know him. Tony could ask him as many questions as he needed when they had time alone, and they would have time alone; it wasn't a hope or a guess anymore. It was an agreement. It wasn’t Tony trying desperately to win over Prince James, it was Yasha asking Tony if he could court him properly and get to know him. 

Gods. Trying to swallow all of this at once was making his head spin. He'd woken up this morning, sure that he was doomed to a life with a husband that hated him and had no desire to change it. Then they'd talked, and it turned out... well, he wasn't sure he was willing to put a new label on Yasha’s feelings for him quite yet, but he wanted to try. That was more than enough for him right now.

Tony checked his appearance in the mirror and made a face. It wasn't his best, which was unfortunate, but there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't know how formal or informal the wedding celebration was supposed to be as far as he was concerned, which meant that he couldn't change his mind about his outfit now-- not when he didn't know what he should dress in instead. At least he was wearing the necklace. That was something.

He left his rooms, head held high and hoping that no one tried to talk to him. He didn't have any friends here, so it shouldn't be too difficult. All he really needed to do was not look approachable. Not that he knew how to do that. The closest he could think of was to look angry or serious, but that was a bad look to go for the night after his wedding night-- no matter that it would've been how he looked if they hadn't talked this morning.

Gods, if Obadiah looked him in the eye, he felt like he was going to crumble. Good conversation this morning or not, he still felt... fragile. The lack of sleep couldn't be helping. 

It was hard to believe any of this was real. He'd swung from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. All it really taught him was that he couldn't read Yasha. At all. He'd thought that he was decent at getting a read on people, but after talking to Yasha-- and now, thinking about the confusing conversations he'd had with Prince Buchanan-- he was beginning to think that he wasn’t good at reading people. Maybe he should accept that the only things he was good at were vastly useless. He was a good rider- wait. He was going to re-label himself as decent. He was a decent rider, and that wasn't completely useless. It just wasn't very useful combined with his other skills. And position in life. It's not like he could pick a profession that would keep him on the road, riding from one city to another to capitalize on that. He lived in a castle. He'd be living in a castle for the rest of his life unless him and Yasha got in such a big fight that they couldn't stand to live in the same place anymore. Still. He wouldn't be on the road or traversing the countryside with Butterfingers.

He was here. Horse riding didn't matter much here. He could read their entire library and it wouldn't make a difference; he'd gotten good at reading, doing it quickly and able to retain the information as if he'd studied it. He'd been proud of how far he'd gotten in his swordplay before he got here, but he was no longer sure he could best a squire. He'd been a Prince, after all. There were rules about how people had to treat him, but he hadn't truly considered until now that everyone he'd sparred with recently had let him win. When he'd started out, he'd lost a lot. Of course he did, it made perfect sense, he'd been a student that hadn't known anything. Towards the end though, he'd won every time. He'd thought it was because of his skill, but there was a decent chance that he'd been wrong about that. Just like he'd been wrong about so many other things.

Things with Yasha were fine now, but that didn't mean that some of his realizations last night hadn't been accurate. Tony's place here was as decorative tinsel. No one needed him to be good at anything. All he had to do was be a good spouse to Yasha. He'd done it wrong last night, but if they were going to start talking and being honest with each other, then he'd be able to figure it out. Or he could just ask.

...He'd probably have to ask.

"What are you wearing," Yasha said. Not asked, said.

Tony looked down at his outfit. He wasn't going to mince words and try to figure out what response Yasha wanted. "I believe they're called clothes. That is it, yes? Or did I choose the wrong word? Brooklin can be tricky."

"Your Brooklin is perfect," was all Yasha said. He was still looking at Tony's clothes like he didn't know why he was wearing them. Wait, that wasn't quite right. He was looking at Tony's neck. That's where his eyes were stuck. He'd done a quick pass at Tony's outfit, and now he was staring at the necklace that he'd given him as a wedding gift.

"Thanks. Unless you're lying because you think it's what I want to hear, in which case let's pretend that I ignored you stoically."

Yasha looked at him and blinked. "Is this part of us talking to each other?"

"Was insulting my outfit part of it?" Tony returned.

"I didn't insult you."

"You need to work on your communication skills then, because that's what it sounded like to me."

"You should take everything I say at face value."

"But that's not how people are," Tony argued. "Everything means more than the surface of the words."

Yasha raised an eyebrow.

"That does include me, in case you were wondering."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Tony asked.

"Why can't you say what you mean?"

"It's not like I lie constantly, but if I say you look nice, there's more to it than you simply looking nice."

"Such as?"

"Well for starters, if I said that to your face, it could mean that I was interested in something physical, or it could mean that I'm making a dig about how you rejected me last night."

"Couldn't you say I looked nice without either of those? Sometimes people look nice." 

Tony looked at him for a long moment. "Is there a reason you're here? That, for example, is me being a little annoyed that we're having this conversation at all, as well as wanting to know why you were waiting."

"We're supposed to show up together. You were worried about appearances. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"How thoughtful."

"Is there another meaning to that?" Yasha asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"No."

Yasha didn't reply.

"See, you not answering half of what I say is also annoying. I think you've already gotten the measure of this, but I'm angry at you ignoring me. Me annoying you in return makes me happy."

"I thought you wanted to try us together."

That took the wind out of his sails. He was right, and it didn't make Tony feel any better about it. Tony wanted to give them a try. He wanted for them to work out. He wanted a real marriage with Yasha, and barring that, he wanted a friendship with him. Instead of working towards that, he was being a total ass. "Right. Sorry. So, what you're saying," Tony said slowly, "is that if you're going to insult me, it won't be hidden behind a seemingly innocuous sentence?"

Yasha blinked at him. "I don't think I'm going to insult you."

"Not right now, but in the future."

Yasha didn't say anything, which Tony took to mean he didn't think he'd have reason to insult Tony in the future.

Tony, however, knew himself. He was annoying. If this conversation had proved anything, it's that this wasn't going to be easy because Tony wasn't going to let it be easy-- that he didn't understand Yasha hardly at all didn't help him in that matter. "Even if you think it's not going to happen, can we agree that if you have something mean to say, you'll say it straight out?"

"Yes."

"Good." They were finally getting somewhere.

"Will you be honest with me in return?" Yasha asked.

For some ungodly reason, Tony was surprised by that. He really shouldn't have been; it was a natural continuation of their situation. "I'll do my best," he said, because that really was the only thing he could promise. It's not like people wanted to talk to him very often, and those that did weren't looking for honesty from him.

He thought about asking about last night. Why Yasha had pulled away the way he had. He'd mentioned earlier that he'd thought that Tony was afraid of him and that's why he kept flinching away, but he'd said that that was looking back after Tony had left the room. Not during. If Tony asked him flat out, would he give that same reason? Or would he tell Tony the truth? Or would he choose a third option that Tony wasn't a fan of and not answer at all?

No matter which he chose or what he said, it would leave Tony feeling open and vulnerable, and that was the last thing he needed after mentally preparing himself for the day.

"Ready?" Tony asked, gesturing down the hallway.

Yasha started walking, so apparently the answer was yes. He was going to be hard to get used to, Tony could feel it. It wasn't solely the directness he insisted he had and wanted for Tony to treat him with, but it was the way he stayed silent so often that got to Tony. He was used to people always replying to him, even if he didn't necessarily want to continue a conversation with them. Yasha was a man of few words. 

He followed, and by the time they made it to where other people could see them, they were walking side by side. He took a bracing breath before they entered the room; he could do this. Pretending to be in love with Prince James would hardly be difficult, even if he didn't understand him.

They walked through the door and everyone turned to look at them. Tony smiled, but not too wide because even though this was a performance, it couldn't look like a performance. A smile like he was happy with his new husband and his new role as the Crown Prince's partner. They weren't the last ones to arrive, and that was good. This wasn't meant to be a grand entrance, no matter how much it felt like it to Tony-- that would come later, and this was little more than a rehearsal for him to get his head on straight.

"Are you feeling all right?" Yasha asked in an undertone after they sat at the table. Prince Buchanan wasn't there yet, so there was no one close enough to hear them.

"Is there some reason I wouldn't be?"

"You look like you might be sick."

"Maybe this is how I look when I'm happy," Tony said.

"No one will believe that."

"Fair enough," Tony said. He reached for a plate. He paused with his hand still outstretched. "Are those plums? I thought they didn't grow here."

"They don't." Prince James leaned a little closer to peer at them. "I've never seen one before."

"Never seen one?" Tony repeated. It shouldn't surprise him since they didn't grow here-- too warm. "Then you've definitely never tried one. Here." He picked up a good one and held it out to him.

Yasha took it and looked at the plum like it was a puzzle, not a fruit.

"There's a pit in the middle, but if you avoid that, you can eat the rest."

He looked at it with a furrowed brow for another second, then took a small bite. It looked like he was evaluating it in his mind as he slowly chewed.

Tony had chosen one for himself and gotten halfway through it by the the time Yasha said anything.

"It's... different."

"New food has a tendency to be that way," Tony said with an easy-going smile. It was illogical that eating a plum would put him in this good of a mood. It's not as if it was his favorite fruit, but the reminder of home was undeniably nice. He finished eating his plum as Yasha took another tentative nibble from his own. He set the pit to the side and grabbed a second one. He shouldn't, and he knew it, but if there was ever a time to let himself indulge, it was now. "Does Prince Buchanan always sleep in like this?" he asked, because he figured that Yasha's brother was a safe topic, especially when they were in public.

"No. He overindulged last night, so he's sleeping in later."

Tony nodded, because that made sense. Not that he had a great deal of experience in what it was like to drink too much. He'd tried it once, to see what it was like, and that had been plenty for him. Getting drunk one night meant that he couldn't do anything the next day, so it wasn't worth it to him. "Does he do that often?"

Yasha shrugged with one shoulder, not looking at him. Great, Tony had somehow managed to offend him.

"So what do you think?" Tony asked.

Yasha looked at him.

"Of the plum."

"I think I like it," he said, looking back down at it.

"Good. Don't get too attached though, since they don't grow here."

"I'm a Prince. I'm sure if I wanted some, I could have them."

"What an abuse of power," Tony teased. "Do we have a schedule for today?"

Yasha nodded and didn't elaborate.

Tony figured he could eat now and ask about the details of the schedule later. Or he could just follow Yasha around. They'd be leaving the castle today, and he had only seen the city once, as he was arriving. Even if he knew exactly what they were doing when, he'd still be following Yasha. There was no getting around it.

The rest of breakfast was spent exchanging meaningless chit-chat. Mostly it was done on Tony's part, with him asking questions and Yasha giving short answers. Tony wasn't taking his short answers as personally this time as he had yesterday-- and the days before-- but he still felt like he was bothering him a little. He just didn't let it stop him today.

Prince Buchanan stumbled in around the time that they were getting ready to leave. Yasha pat him on the back, and that was all the interaction the brothers had before Yasha and Tony walked out. Prince Buchanan's usual smile had been notably absent because he was so tired-- he made the bags under Tony's eyes look invisible.

Chapter Text

It was strange to spend the day with Yasha. He didn't talk much, and he smiled less. Tony had seen him smile exactly twice all day (and both times had been to a merchant, not Tony). He wasn't the most friendly person Tony had ever met, not by a long shot, but he also wasn't actively hostile. No one that they talked to had seemed bothered by it, so maybe they all knew Yasha's reputation and acted accordingly. Or, more likely, they'd heard of his reputation but were in no position to be confronting him about it. After all, he was a Prince, and they were commoners.

Yasha bought him a new necklace, one that had red gemstones because he'd caught Tony's eyes lingering on it. "Hopefully you'll like this one better," he muttered quietly, so no one else could hear. Tony didn't have time to tell him that really, he liked the one he was wearing. Oh well. It's not like Yasha would believed him now when he hadn't believed him the last two times that Tony told him that he liked it.

There were various art pieces that were clearly Manhattian-inspired, so Tony bought a few of them. Two paintings, and one statue that had Yasha looking confused-- apparently statues weren't small and merely for aesthetic appreciation here; anything less than life-sized didn't make sense to him. He'd asked if the statue had something to do with his gods, and only gotten more confused when Tony said, "Of course not". If he wanted to know more about Tony's gods later, he'd tell him that visual depictions of humanoid form weren't permitted, but in the moment, it had seemed superfluous information.

They bought sweets and snacks that were for sale and shared them. Tony let his eyes linger fondly on Yasha instead of always pulling his gaze away so he wouldn't be caught. This was a spectacle. They were supposed to be seen together and happy, so Tony gave them things to notice. It took a few hours, but by the end of the day, Yasha had returned a few gestures. Nothing much, but a hand on his arm had sent excited whispers through the crowd watching them and trying not to gawk. Prince James's reputation as being closed-off was working to their advantage here, because the smallest touch had everyone convinced that the royal couple was getting along. If Yasha were as open as Tony was, they would've had to kiss several times where they could be seen. As it was, Tony had remained thoroughly unmolested for the entire day. There hadn't been a single touch to a part of him that could be considered inappropriate, or hadn't been covered by fabric-- no skin to skin contact.

Tonight, he would remain just as unmolested. And the night after, and the night after, and on and on for who knows how many nights. Yasha had said not only that he wanted to get to know Tony, but that he wanted to court him properly. Proper courting included not having sex. It might be a couple months before they started sharing a bed for real, or it could be a few years. It all depended on how willing Yasha was to actually engage him in conversation, instead of those short answers that he was so fond of. He should ask Prince Buchanan about that, actually. Maybe this is how Yasha was with everyone, but Tony wanted to see if this was only him or if this was how Yasha was before he got to know someone. 

Dinner was the spectacle that he'd been worried about breakfast being. Apparently, everyone had needed the day to recover from the night before, but they were in perfect condition once again this evening, just in time for another celebration. There was dancing tonight, but there hadn't been last night. Tony didn't understand that difference in the slightest. 

He didn't know any of the dances they had in Brookliana, and Yasha hadn't made any indication that he wanted to go on the dance floor. He had no intention of embarrassing himself out there since his husband wasn't going to force him, but when Prince Buchanan asked him for a dance, he could hardly say no. Rather, he could've, but he'd looked to Yasha for help, and all he'd said was, "Do what you want." Real helpful, thanks.

Tony looked back to Prince Buchanan. "I don't know any of these dances." There hadn't been a Brooklianan cultural expert to teach him every little thing, unfortunately. He would've loved to know their dances.

"I'll make sure they play something easy for us," he said with a grin, clearly taking Tony's answer as a yes. He turned and made his way over to the band then.

"We'll have to dance after this," Tony told Yasha.

"Why?"

"Because I can't dance with your brother and not you. It looks bad."

"Couldn't it mean he likes to dance and I don't?"

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes. Happily married, that's what they were projecting. Happily married Princes did not roll their eyes at each other in public. "It could, but we're going to dance anyways."

"Fine."

That was good enough for Tony.

Prince Buchanan came back in time to lead Tony out to the floor for the next song. It was different than the other ones that had been playing, and Tony noticed that more pairs came out for this dance than had populated the floor before. "Don't worry," Prince Buchanan said. "We're mostly going to sway to the music. The steps aren't as defined for this one."

"Thanks. I'm afraid dances from Brookliana aren't very popular in Manhatten."

"Oh, I'd hate to see how I'd do trying to dance in your country," Prince Buchanan said with another smile.

The song started, and Tony noticed-- with a not-insignificant amount of relief-- that a lot of other pairs were doing the same thing that they were: swaying and barely moving. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Is Yasha that short with everyone, or did I do something to upset him?"

Prince Buchanan laughed. "He's that short with everyone."

"Even you?"

"Well, no, not all the time. We're close."

"So if he and I get close, he'll talk to me more?"

"In theory," Prince Buchanan said. "I've only got me and Steve for comparison."

"Steve?" Who the hell was Steve? And why hadn't Tony heard about him sooner if him and Yasha were so close?

"Yeah, Steve’s pretty much his only other friend. Him and Yasha trained together when we were teenagers."

"Was I introduced to him?" Tony asked, bewildered. Surely he would've remembered meeting this Steve person if he was friends with Yasha.

"He wasn't at the wedding, but he should've been here tonight. He's supposed to compete in the tournament." Prince Buchanan rolled his eyes playfully. "Punk's always running late."

Tony had no idea what the word 'punk' was supposed to mean, and he wasn't going to ask-- not right now, at least, though it was very annoying that he considered himself fluent in Brooklin but there were still words like this that snuck up on him. "So it's you, Yasha, and this Steve whom I've never met-" or heard of "-as best friends growing up."

Prince Buchanan's smile widened. "You called him Yasha. I knew you'd figure out how much he likes you."

Tony felt rather like dumping a pitcher of wine over Prince Buchanan's head. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said, "Was I supposed to keep him at arm's length?"

"You know what I mean."

He really, really didn't. But it was time to change the subject, because he didn't want to talk about love in relation to him and Yasha, and turning the topic back to Steve would only serve to annoy him-- again, why hadn't either Prince mentioned this man before? "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"I doubt I'd mind. What is it?"

"Are you engaged to anyone?"

"Ah." A small laugh left him, more of a breath than anything else. "No."

"Why not? Your brother got roped into marrying me twenty years ago. It seems a little strange to me that you don't have an arrangement."

"That's a little too personal to get into in the middle of this crowd. Ask me some other time, when we have privacy, and maybe I'll tell you." Prince Buchanan said it all casually, like it didn't bother him, even if it was too personal to say in public. Why would he care about telling Tony? It's not like they were close. And sure, he had said that maybe he'd tell Tony, but still. If Tony had been in his place, he would've refused flat out-- or brushed it off as if to say 'in your dreams'.

"Maybe? I'm not sure I care that much. I'll find out sometime while I'm here."

"I'm sure you will."

A pause. "Does Yasha really not like dancing?" Tony asked.

"Did he tell you that?"

"It was implied."

"I thought he was fine with dancing. Not his favorite thing in the world, but I've never seen him refuse to do it before. I'm sure you misunderstood him."

"If you say so." Tony certainly hoped that was the case. He didn't actually want to force Yasha to do things he didn't want to do, even if it would save the face of their marriage to do it.

"Really, I wouldn't worry about it. If I were to guess, I'd say that he knew you didn't know any of our dances, and unlike me, he was trying to make tonight easier for you."

"How kind of him, and how rude of you. Tell me, do you often put yourself in the worst position to make your brother look good?"

"Only when it comes to his husband," Prince Buchanan said with a wink, and Tony laughed.

He thought, for the second time since meeting Prince Buchanan, that it would've been so much easier if Tony had married him, not Yasha. He wasn't sure he'd like him better, and it was hard to imagine himself falling in love with Prince Buchanan-- and it was still easy to imagine it with Yasha, despite their troubles communicating-- but it would've made this easier in a way that he would've taken great comfort in.

It seemed like in no time at all, the dance came to an end, and Prince Buchanan escorted him back to their table.

Yasha's jaw was tight as Tony sat down, but he relaxed after Tony asked if he was okay. "When did you want our dance to be?"

"Oh, um, soon, I suppose. No use in waiting."

Yasha nodded, then got up. He did the same thing his brother had, talking to the band to request a song Tony could manage to dance to-- or rather, sway in place and call it dancing. They danced, and unlike with Prince Buchanan, it was silent. Tony didn't have much to say to him, and Yasha certainly didn't start a conversation. He thought about asking about Steve, but that was high on the list of things he didn't want to talk to Yasha about while they were surrounded by people. He might have to risk it when they sat back down though, because he didn't want to be taken unawares when this mystical old friend showed up.

Steve arrived before he got the chance to ask.

The only saving grace of the situation was that they'd finished their dance and sat back at the table. They hadn't been there for a full minute when Steve walked.

Yasha turned when he heard footsteps approaching them, and then he smiled. Full out beamed.

Tony's heart skipped a beat, but he honestly could not tell if it was because Yasha looked downright gorgeous when he smiled, or if it was dread. Dread that Yasha could be this happy but clearly wasn't when Tony was around.

He didn't have to guess who it was that made him so happy, because Yasha said, "Steve, you made it," as he got to his feet.

Tony turned and looked, and then he was back to wanting to stab Yasha with a fork. Steve, he learned, was beautiful. He had shining blond hair, fair skin, and a stupidly pretty smile. He looked like he was Manhattian, actually. He must live near the northern border to have that coloring. He had broad shoulders and corded muscles along his arms where his shirt sleeves had been rolled up. He managed to make his bulk look like part of the handsome package, instead of it making him look less like the ideal body type. 

He looked perfect. 

Tony hated him.

"Sorry I couldn't make it in time for your wedding," Steve said as they embraced. Yes, hugged in front of everyone. Getting a single dance out of Yasha had been pulling teeth, but he offered a hug freely to this person that he'd never mentioned to Tony before.

"It's all right," Yasha said. When he pulled away, he didn't really pull away. They were no longer hugging, but he kept a hand on Steve, near the base of his neck. "You would've ruined my bet for the tournament if you didn't show up." He wasn't grinning anymore, but there was still a hint of a smile on his face. He was in a good mood, and it was obvious.

The desire to stab him intensified. I found you attractive from the moment I saw you. Yeah, right. This is why Tony was having such trouble being nice to Yasha when the situation called for it. Yasha claimed that he was honest, and then he said shit like that. He told Tony that he found him attractive, and then didn't act like it was true in the slightest. It was the easiest route of manipulation, actually. To convince everyone around you that you were the only honest person in the room. Then, as long as you didn't fuck it up by lying too obviously, you could get away with it. He hadn't wanted to think that Yasha was that sort of person. Did he think that Yasha was capable of it? Under the right circumstances, yes. Did he truly think that’s what was happening here? Honestly, no. But it still wasn’t ideal, whatever was going on here. 

He didn’t expect for them open with each other from the start, but he’d thought that Yasha would not outright lie about something fundamental. Prince James not telling him about Steve counted as lying about a fundamental. If they weren't lovers, it was painfully obvious that Yasha wanted them to be. Tony had half a mind to go back to calling him Prince James to his face. He wanted to be petty about this. Interrupt and act innocent while he asked Steve questions.

But honestly, he was too tired to bother. Physically and mentally, he was capable of it. He just didn't see the point. It would satisfy him for all of ten minutes, maximum, and then he'd be back to being miserable, and Yasha would feel like he had to talk to him about it. And that was assuming that Steve or Prince Buchanan didn't also give him a hard time about it. Facing all three of them at once might be entertaining for a while, but he wasn't sure it would be worth it. He'd wanted to be important here, and then he'd settled, in the last twenty-four hours, to simply existing. Now he'd moved on to a new phase, which was as he'd been living his life for the past few years: he wanted to be nothing to the people around him. No one important, no one worth listening to. He wanted to be an afterthought, and not worth anything a moment sooner. It wasn't fulfilling to do that, but it let him spend his days however he wanted, and that was better than the alternative of being paid attention and not receiving a scrap of love.

Fuck it. 

Just... fuck everything. 

He'd wanted more out of life than this. He hadn't wanted to fill the role his mother did-- decorative and silent. This morning, talking to Prince James, he'd truly believed that he wouldn't have a life that was anything like that. Now he'd prefer it over the hope he'd had. He was giving himself emotional whiplash like this, and he was aware of how terrible it was for him to keep swinging between the two extremes. Maybe he should treat Yasha how he always should've hoped for: like a tentative friend. It was the most realistic best case scenario, but he'd dismissed it out of hand. He liked to think that he considered all of the variables, but he was little more than a child building a tower and only picking the pretty colors instead of the sturdy blocks. He had to stop doing this. He had to stop acting like this. He was going to rip himself into shreds if he continued in this way.

He tried to force himself to look at Steve from an objective viewpoint. It didn't work. He still looked perfect in the most infuriating way possible. Tony would punch him if he thought it would make him feel better, but he got the feeling that, even if he disregarded all other consequences, he'd break his knuckles open on those sparkling white teeth. It would do more damage to him than to Steve's mouth. Steve was participating in the tournament and therefore would be summarily capable of beating Tony in a fight, not to mention Yasha and Prince Buchanan's reactions, as well as the rest of the people in the room. Obadiah might think it was amusing, but he'd be the only one, and it certainly wouldn’t be smart.

"Can't have that, can we?" Steve said, in reply to Yasha's mention of betting on him. "Sorry things took so long in Gerritsen."

Gerritsen was on the border between Brookliana and Manhatten. At least Tony had been right about him being from the border, but he didn't feel much victory in it. It was hard to feel happy about anything when he realized that Yasha had been hoping he'd look like Steve. Like a nice, traditional Manhattian. Blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin. Tony had none of those. His mother had all of them, but none of her children had inherited the blond hair or blue eyes. Natasha had gotten the pale skin, and that was in large part because she refused to be in the sun without something to shade her face. Even when she’d gone riding, she would take the extra time and effort to cover her face from the sun. How the hell had Steve managed it? Some people had the right skin for it, he supposed.

"It's fine. You've only known when my wedding was going to be for the past six years."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Touchy, touchy."

"Steve, this is Prince Anthony," Yasha said. He turned half to face Tony then. "This is Steve. We trained together."

And did a bit more than that, Tony wanted to say-- it's not like he completely thought that was the truth, but still. Instead, he smiled and said, "Nice to meet you."

"You as well," Steve said. It sounded genuine enough, but Tony's problem was in the lack of deference being shown to him. He was a Prince, after all. He didn't get so much as Steve's head being inclined, let alone a bow like people were supposed to greet him. People of equal station or higher didn't have to of course, but it was obvious that Steve wasn't of royal blood. From either of their countries.

"You must be quite close to be so casual with my husband," Tony said. It was possessive and stupid, and he didn't care. Why would he care? He'd just decided that he didn't give a shit anymore. All his plans had been useless, and every guess he made was more likely to be wrong than right. 

Instead of reacting in a way any rational person would, Steve chuckled, "Relax, I'm not his type."

"I wasn't aware that's what I was worried about, but all right," Tony said. He turned back to his food. Would someone please take him on the training grounds and arrange for a major accident to occur? He could use the recuperation time to feel sorry for himself and try to formulate a plan that would actually work. Why did no one in this gods cursed country act the way they should?

"Seriously? We exchange two sentences and you decide I'm not worth your time?" Steve asked.

"Steve," Yasha muttered.

"No, this is stupid. If your precious little Prince doesn't like me, he should say it to my face."

"Steve," Yasha said again, more severe this time.

"No, it's all right," Tony said. He got to his feet. He didn't much feel like eating more anyways. He smiled at Steve pleasantly. "We exchanged two sentences, and I decided that you're not worth my time because you act as if we're on equal footing when that couldn't be further from the truth."

A flash of anger crossed Steve's face.

“I don’t like you.” 

When Tony said they weren’t on equal footing, he’d meant that Steve knew Yasha so much better than him and he was in his home country where Tony was in a completely foreign land, but it was obvious that Steve thought he meant rank. Which wasn't wrong. It was part of why Tony didn't like him now-- the casual disregard, as if that was his decision to make-- but it was far from the sole reason. He considered, for a very concentrated moment, about letting Steve continue to think that, but he continued as if he didn't notice. That is to say, in a direction that he hadn't planned on going when he started, but he sort of wanted to make Steve feel bad. 

"You know Yasha very well, and I met him a week ago. You, he greets as someone he loves. Me, he treats as someone that he can't get rid of. He didn't consider me important enough to inform about your existence. Of course I don't like you." He said all of it with that same bland, pleasant smile on his face, and when he was done, he pat Steve on the shoulder before leaving. He didn't want to stick around for Yasha to tell him that he'd been too rude. Not that Yasha would say it in those exact words. He'd probably stare at Tony with that little frown on his face and ask if that was necessary. Or maybe he wouldn't say anything at all, and he'd just look at Tony, and Tony would try to put together what he wasn't saying like he constantly tried to do and consistently got wrong.

He didn't usually drink alcohol, but he could use a cup of something right now to make him less aware of his misery.

He didn't glance behind himself or give any indication that he cared how they reacted to that-- if they reacted at all. Obadiah caught him before he managed to get his hands on a drink. "Tony, my boy! Enjoying the festivities?"

"Very much," he lied with a wide smile. "Not quite what either of us are used to though, is it?"

Obadiah gave a hearty laugh. "No, not quite. I did want to check in with you," he said, voice getting quieter. "Make sure this is what you want."

"Of course it is. What are you talking about?"

"Just that- well Tony, you're the closest I have to a son. If you said you were unhappy here, I'd do my best to help you."

"The alliance-"

"Pales in comparison to me. I'm an old man. I want a great many things, I admit, but your happiness has always been one of them."

He'd be lying if he said that didn't warm his heart, especially after the situation with Steve that he'd fled from. "I'm happy."

"Good," Obadiah said, giving his shoulders a squeeze before letting him go. "I suppose I should let you get back to enjoying your wedding celebrations. This is your country now." He gave Tony a little toast with his cup, and Tony chuckled.

"It would be nice if that meant I knew everything about it."

"I have the utmost faith that you'll figure it out."

Tony hoped so, too.

He kept walking, but he was distracted by talking to members of the Brooklianan court and never ended up getting his drink. It was all boring, and almost entirely about the upcoming tournament. Tony let people talk his ear off about the various competitors they were hoping to see and what they thought the most interesting sport would be-- answer: boxing. Apparently, Prince Buchanan was something of a champion in boxing, though Tony still couldn't put together what exactly the sport entailed. Something about fists, but that was all he could figure out based on what people were saying to him. He was sure that someone would explain it if he asked, but he didn’t want to bother.

He was still considering going after that drink when Yasha grabbed him. Seriously, grabbed him and pulled him to the side. The man was strong, but as someone that had had his hands all over those arms the night before, Tony was quite aware of that.

"You ran away," he said. No indication of if he was upset or not that Tony could tell.

"If you want me to apologize, you're going to have to get me drunk. Actually, that's a good tip for you. If you want me to be easy to deal with, start plying me with alcohol. It won't take much, since I hardly ever drink."

Yasha looked at him for a long moment. What was the saying about eyes seeing past a facade and into the soul? It certainly seemed like a skill he had. "I don't want to get rid of you," he said eventually. "Do you truly think that?"

Tony didn't have to glance around them to know that people were watching. He leaned in and put his mouth close to Yasha's ear and whispered, "I'm not going to talk about this when we're in public." He leaned back again and smiled. He thought that Yasha would wait until they retired for the night, but evidently, he was not practicing patience tonight.

He grabbed Tony's hand and led him out of the hall.

Huh. It occurred to Tony, that with him whispering something in Yasha's ear and them immediately leaving made it look like they were running off to have sex-- for the second night in a row, as far as everyone else was concerned. It was good for Tony's court perception, so that was good.

Yasha took Tony at his word that he wouldn't talk about it until they were in private, so it wasn't until they were in their rooms-- well, Yasha's rooms-- that he turned to Tony expectantly.

"I forget exactly what you asked," Tony said.

"Do you think I want you gone?"

"Honestly, yes. You don't seem to like me very much."

"This morning, you said-"

"Forget what I said," Tony said, taking off the necklace. "Trying to talk to you is like talking to a wall. Any time I think I've gotten somewhere, I come back an hour later only to learn that you're exactly where I found you the first time." He started working on his shirt. Things like this are why he missed when no one gave a shit about him. When he started complaining, people left; Yasha was sticking around to listen to him. Of course, he didn't have many options, since this was his room, so it's not as if he could walk away and still be in private.

"I don't know what you mean. We agreed to get to know each other," Yasha said.

"We did, and then you proceeded to not tell me about this best friend you have."

"You're mad at me because I didn't tell you about Steve."

"Yes," Tony said. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you only had your brother. Are you going to tell me that you secretly have a dozen other friends that you didn't feel the need to mention?"

"No."

"No, you don't have any other friends, or no, you're not going to tell me about them?"

"It's just Steve."

"Hm." If Tony trusted Yasha for anything, then he'd ask why Yasha hadn't told him about Steve earlier. But he had a few guesses, and he didn't want confirmation for any of it, and what he wanted even less was for him to be right and have Yasha try to lie to him about it. "Good to know. I'm going to grab something from my room to sleep in." He was going to change in there, because there was no point in grabbing clothes from his room only to walk back in here and undress.

He closed the door separating their room and changed quickly. As tempting as it was to stay in here and not go back, they had agreed. Not to mention he'd just told Yasha that he'd be back in there. With a sigh, he ruffled his hair and walked back over to Yasha's rooms.

He walked in, and had to stop himself from sighing again. Yasha hadn't changed clothes. "Are you planning to sleep in that?" Tony asked.

Yasha looked down at his clothes like he hadn't noticed them. "No."

"Why didn't you change?"

He shrugged with one shoulder.

"You're subdued."

"I'm not..." Yasha breathed in, breathed out. "Used to expressing myself."

"You didn't have any trouble expressing how happy you were to see Steve."

Yasha looked over at him then. "Are you jealous?"

This is the exchange he didn't want to have.

"You said you'd be honest with me," Yasha reminded him.

"I did say that." He thought about telling Yasha to go fuck himself, but honestly, it felt different now that they were in private. Again. It was harder to think of Yasha as cold and unforgiving when they were alone like this. Yasha had this way of looking at him, like he was a bug pinned in place that couldn't escape no matter how much he wanted to. Tony sighed. "Yes, I'm jealous. You didn't tell me about him. Why?"

"You have no reason to be jealous. There's never been anything like that between us."

"Are you sure? Because it's no secret that you've had your fair share of partners, and he has the coloring that you hoped I would have. That seems to indicate, to me, that you like him more than me."

"He's my friend. I barely know you. You still have no reason to be jealous. I told you I wouldn't be with anyone else now that we're married."

"As you said, we barely know each other. What reason do I have to believe you when you say something like that?"

"If we don't trust each other, we have nothing."

"Then we have nothing," Tony said.

Yasha's expression didn't waver. "You said you wanted to work on this."

He did. He was being spiteful, and he knew it. He grit his teeth. "You should've told me about him. I'm not going to work on this at all if you keep embarrassing me over and over. I shouldn't have to interrogate you to learn that you have a friend. I shouldn't have to force you into dancing with me. I'm being horrible, and I know it, but it's not like you're trying either."

Yasha continued to look at him for a long moment. "Fair. We can... talk."

"You don't have to say that like it's an execution. If ignoring each other will be easier, I'd prefer that we did that. I'm tired of trying to get people to care about me. If you don't want to do it, then let me know. All we have to do is last through this wedding celebration week, and then you can send me off somewhere where we won’t have to see each other."

"You'd be fine with that?" Yasha asked. His expression was as unreadable to Tony as it ever was.

"I prefer it over staying here with someone that doesn't care to tell me anything."

He didn't say anything. All these long pauses would make Tony nervous if he thought that Yasha meant something by them, but he was becoming increasingly convinced that Yasha needed the time to think. "Steve's a friend. I don't know why you think I want you to look like him, but I don't."

"Is there a reason talking to me is so hard for you?"

Yasha raised an eyebrow. "You're intimidating."

"Me?" Tony asked with an incredulous laugh. "You think I am intimidating? Have you ever met yourself? Or me, for that matter?"

"You're smart. I may not have read all of your letters as carefully as I should have, but you were always learning something new. All I know how to do is fight."

Tony blinked at him. Seriously? That's what all the silence and not talking to him was about? "You think I'm too smart for you? Is that what this is?"

Yasha shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Yes."

"That is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. I did all of that for you."

Yasha's brow furrowed. "All of it," he repeated, sounding like he wasn't quite sure he believed it.

"Yes, it's this wild idea I like to call 'trying to make myself useful'."

"For... me."

"Who else?"

Yasha didn't look less confused by his answer. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He cleared his throat and finally looked away. "Are you looking forward to the tournament?"

"I am, actually. There are some sports you have that I've never heard of. It'll be interesting to see them. Do you compete?"

"Not in this one. It's our wedding celebration, so I'm not allowed." A short pause. "Bucky will be."

"Good. What events?"

Yasha gave another one shouldered shrug. "Boxing. Not sure what else. It might be the only one this time."

"All right. What about Steve?"

Yasha snorted. "As many as he can get away with."

Right, because that's what he'd asked. Maybe it was like with Prince Buchanan, and Yasha didn't know. "I suppose I'll see while we're watching." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Is he always so informal?"

"With me, yes. Not when our parents are around." Yasha looked over at him then.

"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what that look means."

Yasha grunted.

Tony walked to one side of the bed and pulled back the covers. "I'm sorry that I'm being difficult," he said, face pointed towards the sheets. "I know that I'm not making this easy on you. The trouble is that every time I convince myself that I'll give this an honest try, it feels like I find out something that you're keeping from me, and I think to myself 'If he's not going to try, why should I?'."

"I can understand that," Yasha said.

Tony glanced at him, then quickly away again. It wasn't enough to stop him from seeing Yasha, though. He hadn't known that he was finally changing, and it had not been his intention to catch sight of him half-undressed. It wasn't anything scandalous, just his shirt. But his back was to Tony, and it's not like Tony had been able to appreciate the sight the night before, worried and preoccupied as he was with what they were doing. One glimpse now was enough to fill his thoughts with ideas of getting his hands on him again. To have that single-minded focus on him again. How was it that he could feel as if he didn't trust him with a single grain of sand one second, and the next, he was overcome with the desire to kiss him senseless? If his mind and his physical urges could get on the same page, that would be preferable. There was no logical reason to feel more favorably towards Yasha simply because of the flex of muscles on his back as he moved his arms. Well, the reasoning was that people were willing to overlook quite a few character defects if they found someone attractive, but he didn't think that counted as logical.

"I haven't made it easy on you, either. You offer me chances, and I continue to fail. All I can tell you is that I'm trying. I believe I will continue to fail, but I am trying."

Tony nodded, then realized that Yasha probably wasn't looking at him. He refused to look over and check though, unwilling to give his treacherous mind more fodder. "It's enough that you're trying." For now, at least. It was enough for Tony, for now, that he was trying. Yasha was the Crown Prince, and had himself admitted that all he was good at was fighting. He claimed that he had only two friends, one of which was his twin brother. The knowledge that he was trying with Tony, even if it wasn't obvious to him, would be enough to keep him in a half-decent mood. For a while. "I wish we'd met sooner. I hate that I'm trying to get to know you at the same time I'm getting used to this country and trying to familiarize myself with everyone here." He finally climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up over himself, as if he needed to cover himself physically to protect himself from the emotional exposure.

"Previous meetings would make this easier," Yasha agreed.

A second later, Tony felt the bed dip as he got in. He swallowed thickly. He wasn't nervous; he knew that nothing was going to happen. They would fall asleep like this, without looking at or touching each other, and they'd wake in the same manner. It still felt momentous though, that they were able to share the bed without any issues. It was a far cry from how yesterday had ended, and Tony was all the happier for it.

Chapter Text

Tony woke up, feeling much better than the day before. There was neither despair nor hope. Instead, it was a day like any other, and that was exactly what he wanted from his life. He was tired of the highs and lows that controlled him. Life was simply life, and he would appreciate it if his mornings continued like this: uneventful.

That being said, he hadn't woken naturally. He could barely make out Yasha's silhouette from the single candle that had been lit, but he knew, instinctually, that he'd woken from the mattress shifting. He wasn't used to sharing with another person, and he hadn't thought it would be that big of a problem until now. Was he going to be like this until he got used to it, or was he a light sleeper but had never had an opportunity to know it until now? "Mmph," Tony mumbled, bringing his hands up to rub at his face.

Yasha turned to face him. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly.

Tony yawned, legs stretching out. "Do you always rise this early?"

"Yes."

"How exhausting."

"Sorry."

Tony waved him off and rolled onto his other side. It was too early for existence, so he'd be able to get back to sleep.

That was the theory, anyways. He found himself kept awake by the sounds of Yasha getting ready for the day. He was quiet, and it was obviously in consideration of Tony that he did it, but it was still jarring to Tony. When the door finally closed, leaving the room in silence, Tony sighed in relief. He snuggled into the mattress to get more comfortable.

That was when his mind turned full traitor, and he imagined-- entirely without his consent-- what it would be like if Yasha had woken him up with a hand on his waist and soft kisses on his neck. "Nope," Tony said to himself, sitting up and throwing off the blankets. He wasn't doing that this morning. This was going to be a normal day, without any of the drama of the day before. He was going to watch the tournament and enjoy himself. He wasn't going to preform extended torture by wondering what Yasha thought of him and questioning if they stood a chance as a real couple. 

The good news was that he could dress more casually today since they would be outside for the tournament for most of the day. They were setting up for it now, or perhaps were going to add the finishing touches after breakfast. That would be fun, actually. He could go and watch as they finished setting it up. Without jousting, he had no idea what the main event would be, much less what the area for it would look like.

With that in mind, he called for his servants. There was nothing to hide from them today, and anyways, he would need the help getting ready after having to wake up early for the second day in a row. Tony wasn't meant for rising with the sun. He was meant for staying up late enough that he could see the dawn, and then running to bed with the hopes that no one would notice how late he'd been up-- although, all the burned down candles in the library were probably a dead giveaway to the servants, but it's not as if they told anyone in his family, so it didn't matter.

He didn't have time for a ride, but he hadn't seen this library yet. He could do that to pass the time before the tournament started. He dismissed that idea as well. If he went, he’d stay too long. 

He had mixed staff at the moment-- the Manhattians that he'd brought with him along with the Brooklianans that had been assigned to him-- so he asked, "Does anyone know where Prince James is this morning?"

"I believe His Highness usually spends his mornings in the training yard," one of them said. Tony should know his name, but he hadn't gotten around to learning it yet. He really should do that soon. No one wanted to be called 'hey you', and Tony was better than that. "It might be different today because of the tournament."

"It's a place to start," Tony said with a shrug. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Peter, Your Highness."

"Well, thank you Peter."

Peter dipped his head in acknowledgement.

Tony turned to the rest of them then. "I'm afraid I don't remember any of your names, either, or if I was introduced to you at all. It's been a hectic time."

They all introduced themselves, and Tony committed them to memory, matching each name to their face. He could get away with asking one more time before they considered it an insult that he couldn't remember them, but he'd prefer not to let that happen. He was already familiar with their faces after his time here, so it shouldn't be too hard for him to keep it all straight in his head. He'd have to ask if he wanted to be sure, but they all looked to be the same age as him. No doubt it was done on purpose, but it did feel strange that he had men and women both. In Manhatten, men had other men for servants, and women had other women. There was no mixing and matching, but since they had almost equal numbers for him, it seemed rather purposeful. Jim informed him that technically, they were all servants for Prince James as well, but he had rarely called on them in the months leading up to the wedding.

Since they'd been chosen for Yasha and Tony as a married unit, he'd be hard pressed to keep his servants from Manhatten here, if that's what he wanted to do. He'd considered it. He'd thought about it over and over since arriving, and now the answer fell into his lap: he could let them go home. They'd likely travel with the ambassadors heading to Manhatten after the wedding celebration was over, or he could ask Obadiah to escort them home. He'd look into it before the week was out to be sure of all the options available, but at least they'd be taken care of, no matter if he intervened or not.

He would also like to point out-- even if it was solely in his own mind-- that his mother and father had had entirely separate servants. But then, they'd also had entirely separate bedchambers, so that could account for the difference in one way, at least.

Tony went to the training yard alone, and he saw that Yasha was there. Yasha, however, wasn't alone. Steve was with him. Tony tried not to take it personally, and he reminded himself that Yasha had said there was absolutely nothing there. It was hard not to take it a little personally and doubt Yasha's word when he heard him laugh. That's right, laugh. It was the first time Tony had ever heard him laugh, and he was doing it because of something Steve had said. Tony thought about not doing anything differently and continuing to walk closer so he could watch, but his interest in being around Steve was very low. In fact, he would go out of his way to not have to be around the man. He knew that his feelings of hatred for him were largely unfounded, but he was dealing with so much else right now that he didn't much care to make the space in his heart to be kind and considerate to the man.

They hadn't spotted him, so he turned around and left. He didn't set it in his head that he wanted to go back to his rooms, but he found himself in that hallway before long.

He sighed. He had nothing in those rooms to entertain himself. He could always head to the library now, but it was likely he’d lose track of time, and it wasn't something he could risk so early in the marriage. Hell, they were still having their wedding celebration; he couldn't be late to a major part of the wedding celebration.

He wanted to know more about Steve, but he was currently unwilling to spend time with the man himself, and he similarly didn't want to talk to Yasha about him. That left Tony with one real option left: Prince Buchanan. He walked over to his door and knocked. It was inappropriate in Manhatten, but maybe Brookliana didn't care about things like that. They didn't seem to care about other proprieties that Tony had grown up with, after all. He'd figure it out based on Prince Buchanan's reaction when he opened the door and saw Tony standing there, and since it was Prince Buchanan, he sincerely doubted that the Prince would take it as a personal offense even if it was horribly inappropriate.

The door opened, and Prince Buchanan was standing there, looking disheveled.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to wake you," Tony said. In all honesty, he'd forgotten that it was early. He was too used to waking up late to have really considered it.

"It's all right," Prince Buchanan said, then yawned. "What brings you to my door at this hour?"

"I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me. About Steve."

"Sure," he said, opening the door wider in invitation.

Not horribly inappropriate then. Tony stepped inside.

"I'm happy to help, but I don't know why you're asking me instead of Yasha," Prince Buchanan said.

"He got kind of mad with me last night over how I acted. I figured you were the safer option unless I wanted to start another argument."

Prince Buchanan chuckled. "Steve has a way of inspiring fights when he's around."

"Is he that confrontational with everyone?" Tony asked.

"Yes. It's how him and Yasha met, actually."

Tony looked at him incredulously.

"What you should understand about both Steve and your husband is that they're both assholes. Don't get me wrong, I love Yasha. Most of the time, they don't mean to be assholes, but they are. Yasha doesn't talk enough to avoid someone from misunderstanding what his stares mean, and Steve talks too much and gets himself into misunderstandings."

"Are you sure they're misunderstandings? Judging by my conversation with him, it seems like he does it on purpose."

"That was him being protective."

"Over the Crown Prince?" Tony asked doubtfully.

"He's not the ripest grape in the bunch," Prince Buchanan said with a grin. "Besides, didn't you insult him first last night?"

"I doubt that very highly. I don't pick fights with people that much bigger than me." Or at least, that's what he'd decided after realizing that his fighting skills probably weren't as good as he'd been told by his various instructors. "Yasha doesn't count because I'm married to him. He's far less likely to hit me if I push him too far."

"If he ever does hit you, tell me, and I'll go knock sense into him. Not that I think he'd ever raise a hand against you," Prince Buchanan added, "but I think you should know that I'd be on your side if that ever happened."

Tony was tempted to ask 'What if I deserved it?' just to see how Prince Buchanan would respond, but he wanted more information about Steve, and he wouldn't get it if he let the conversation get carried in that direction. Not without seeming obsessive, at least. "Good to know," he said lightly. "So him and Steve are close?"

Prince Buchanan nodded.

"How close?"

"Eh." Prince Buchanan rubbed at the back of his neck as he thought. "Not as close as me and Yasha are. Closer than Yasha is with anyone else by far. Steve and Yasha like to pretend it's not there, but the matter of station does keep some space between them. They were a lot closer before we were adults. Steve's up at the northern border so much that this is the first time Yasha's seen him in a year. Before that, it was about two years between visits. I think they spend more time reminiscing and going at each other with swords than they do creating any new memories together."

"Hm." Tony wasn't quite as willing as Prince Buchanan to dismiss their time sword fighting together. He knew the sort of bond people could form with their equals in the training yard. He'd never had someone like that, but he'd seen plenty of other people form that bond, and he knew what it could withstand once forged. For Yasha and Steve to still enjoy each other's company so much after seeing each other once every two years, it must be quite the experience for them. He was now sure that he'd made the right choice in not interrupting them. "Tell me more about Steve. Is he a noble? Where's he from?"

Prince Buchanan yawned again, but in the way that meant he was still waking up, not getting more tired. "His father was a minor noble, but he lost any standing he had when he met Steve's mother and married her. It was before the alliance, so people didn't look kindly on him taking a Manhattian to his bed, let alone marrying her. Steve's physical prowess over the years has gained him enough status that he was given a minor holding along the border, replacing what his father lost. That's pretty much all I know about where he comes from. He doesn't like to talk about it, for reasons I think are pretty obvious."

Tony nodded because, yes, if Steve's father had lost everything because of who he married, then Steve wouldn't want to rehash that history.

"He's treated more like a favored tournament champion than anything else in the court," Prince Buchanan said.

"Hm."

"You don't like tournament champions?" Prince Buchanan asked, looking amused.

"The ones I've met were often excellent in tournaments and utterly useless everywhere else."

"I'm going to refrain from commenting on that since Steve is friends with my brother."

Tony laughed. "I can hardly fault you for that." Why was it so easy to be around Prince Buchanan? They talked, they joked, they laughed, and all of it was easy. Even when he was uncomfortable around him, it felt so much easier than dealing with Yasha. He was, however, glad that he hadn't married Prince Buchanan. Nothing would be worse than marrying him and lusting after his brother. And Tony did think that's how it would have happened. Prince Buchanan was cute, but Yasha was... all-encompassing. When Tony looked at him, he had to force his thoughts to other things so that he didn't jump on him and ask for another kiss. Yasha made his toes curl just thinking about him, and that had (unfortunately) been true even before he touched Tony. Now that he did have an idea what Yasha was like in bed, it had gotten worse, but it had been present before that all the same. Not that he was particularly pleased about it, especially as he learned more about Steve, the one person Yasha had chosen for a friend aside from his brother. "Are you friends with Steve as well?"

"Yes, though I wouldn't count him among the best of my friends."

"Who would you count?"

"Yasha, and a whole bunch of people you've never met."

"That's no reason not to tell me."

"I thought you came to ask questions about Steve," Prince Buchanan said.

"I did, and you answered them."

"Those were all of your questions then?"

"The only questions I have left have more to do with your brother than I'm comfortable asking of you."

"Ask anyways, I could use something to entertain myself this morning before the tournament starts."

If Tony distrusted Prince Buchanan at all, he'd refuse. As it was, if Prince Buchanan wasn't trustworthy, acting so laid back would be the best way of disarming someone. Oh, what did he care? Prince Buchanan could be playing him like a harp, and it wouldn't make much of a difference to Tony's life. So what if he went and told Yasha that Tony didn't trust him? He'd told Yasha that himself yesterday. "He told me that there's nothing between him and Steve, and that there never has been. Is that true?"

"You think he'd lie to you?"

"I think you not telling me flat out that it's true makes me suspicious. And honestly, yes, I think he'd lie to me if it suited him. I'm a pain in the ass to deal with, and I know it. If he and Steve used to be lovers and he told me so, I would be utterly unbearable to be around for the entire time Steve was here. If they have a history like that and he tells me that it's nothing, then I become much easier to manage. Assuming that I believe him, of course, which as you can see, I'm still not convinced of."

"Why aren't you convinced?"

"Another evasion," Tony noted. "If I was only slightly suspicious before, I would be much more so now, but it would be dishonest on my part if I said that you alone made me this way. I'm not convinced because every time I see them together, Yasha actually smiles. You're supposed to be the one he's closer to, and yet he seems much happier to be spending time with Steve."

All traces of humor were gone from Prince Buchanan's face now. He didn't look particularly severe, but blank wasn't a look Tony was used to seeing on his face-- yes, even in the short amount of time they'd known each other. "No, there is nothing between them. At least," he added, "not that they ever told me about. I don't make a habit of asking my dear brother questions that I think he'll lie to me about. That being said, whatever they may or may not have had is well and truly over."

"You know that for a fact?"

"What I know is that Yasha would never cheat on you."

"You say that like he has some sort of affection for me."

"He does."

"He doesn't," Tony said.

"If you don't believe that he wouldn't cheat because it's you," Bucky said dismissively, like he didn't believe it for a second, "then at least believe that he would never step outside the bounds of his marriage. I know that for a fact. A one hundred percent certainty, if it makes you feel better."

"...He said something similar." Tony didn't want to admit it, but Yasha had given him a similar assurance.

"Then why don't you believe him?" Prince Buchanan asked, and he was severe now.

"Would you trust him if you were me?"

"Yes."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," Prince Buchanan said.

"You'd trust someone that ignored you for years? That humiliated you twice in public and once, quite severely, in private? He tells me that he tries to be kind, and he fails. Would you trust that person?"

Prince Buchanan swallowed thickly. "He's my brother."

"Yes, well if you were in my place, he wouldn't be your brother. He'd be someone you spent years writing to and barely receive a response in return. He told me that he barely read them. Would you trust that person when he says that he didn't fuck someone that he can't help smiling at every time he sees him?"

Prince Buchanan clenched his jaw. "No."

"You see the problem."

"Yes."

"This is why I didn't want to ask you about it."

"I suppose I could've lied about it from the start. Told you that no, absolutely not they've never had anything like that. As far as I know-"

"You mean as far as evidence goes, don't you?" Tony interrupted. "That you have no evidence or confession to, but you know it."

"I had suspicions, that's all."

Tony regretted coming here. He regretted asking Prince Buchanan questions, because as it turns out, the Prince well and truly did not believe in lying to him-- or perhaps this was a massive lie meant to cause strife, but Tony didn't put much stock in that theory; it was mentioned purely out of the need to include the possibility, not because he thought that's what it was. "How deep were these suspicions?"

"I don't think we should talk about this anymore," Prince Buchanan said. It was the first time that he truly reminded Tony of Yasha. That steely look in his eyes was awfully familiar. "It's obviously making you upset. I thought answering your questions would make you feel better, so I answered. It wasn't so you could make yourself miserable. Whatever they might have had is done, and you're only hurting yourself by thinking about it. Yasha had past lovers, and he's not on terrible terms with some of them. I can see why it bothers you, but it's not a crime. I'm sure you can say the same about your past."

Did no one in this gods-cursed country read that stupid contract that Tony had been held to his entire life? "You think I'm overreacting."

"To be blunt, yes. You shouldn't hold it against him, because he doesn't hold any of your past lovers against you."

Tony wanted to pound his head against the wall. "That would be fair," he managed to grit out.

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Because your brother isn't you. He doesn't make it easy to talk to him about anything. Right now, I trust you more than I trust him, and that's not how this is supposed to go. I killed any chance I had at having friends because I wanted to make myself into someone he could love. I spent years on it, and he barely gave me a thought."

"What do you want me to say?"

"That he was wrong."

Prince Buchanan quirked a small smile at that. "You want me to side with you over my brother?"

Tony returned the smile. Hilariously, he did find humor in the situation. He'd regret this even more after he walked out the door, but for now, it didn't destroy him. "You asked what I wanted you to say, not what I thought you'd say."

They kept smiling at each other, these sad little things that didn't come close to meaning happiness. "Do you always insist on making yourself miserable or is this part of your adjustment to living in Brookliana?"

"I pray to all my gods that it's the second one. Are you going to tell Yasha about this?"

"Not unless you give me further reason to worry about you."

"You're worried about me?"

"You don't trust Yasha to be kind to you. Of course I'm worried."

"You barely know me."

"And you barely know me, but you told me what's been bothering you," Prince Buchanan said. "You refused to have friends because you were preparing for your arrival here. Maybe it's time you made a friend, Prince Anthony. Not to sound overbearing, but I'm available. Not to mention you already told me what's got you like this. It's a better foundation for a friendship than a lot of the others I have."

"I'll consider it later. At a time when I didn't present my heart for display like it was nothing."

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Prince Buchanan said, giving a wave as Tony reached for the door.

Well. So much for his normal day, free of drama. It was his own fault, and he was well aware of that fact, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. In fact, it made it worse. He could've been at peace with himself, knowing that trouble had happened to him instead of him causing it. Because at least then it wouldn't have been his fault.

He closed the door and tried not to kick the wall in frustration when he leaned against it. He really had lost any grip he used to have on himself. He used to be good at pretending. With his family when they cared to look, at events when he needed to not look like he couldn't wait to leave and go to his new home. Then he got here, and he fell apart like he was nothing.

He raised his hands and rubbed at his eyes, trying to stave off the headache that wanted to form. Today was going to be a good day. There was going to be a tournament, and they'd be outside all day. Maybe, if he was lucky, they would have some more plums for him to eat.

Prince Buchanan heard him list reasons why he didn't trust his brother, and his response had been to offer Tony friendship. Either Tony was setting himself up to fail even further, or the Prince was an uncommonly kind man.

He moved his hand to the side and knocked on the door again.

Bucky opened the door. "Yes?"

"You can call me Tony. If we're going to try out being friends, you should call me my name."

"Does that mean you're finally going to start calling me Bucky?"

"Finally?" Tony said, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. "It's been two weeks."

"A very long two weeks. Prince Buchanan makes me sound so stuffy."

"You're such a child," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Bucky." He started to walk away.

"No need to be so pissy about it, Tony."

Tony didn't know what the word 'pissy' meant, and he didn't turn back around to ask. That would make the second word Bucky used that he didn't understand, so he might have to get in the habit of asking him. He started heading for the training yard again. They might still be there, and even though he felt like a fool for spilling his guts to Bucky like that, he felt strangely intact. Not raw and still bleeding like his conversations with Yasha left him.

He made it there around the time that they were leaving. "Hello," he said with a smile.

Steve had been smiling up until he saw Tony.

Yasha's expression remained unchanged. "You're up early."

"Yes, well someone woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep."

Yasha grimaced. "Sorry."

"I'm only teasing."

He blinked at Tony. A silent question of 'Since when do you tease?'.

"I was trying it out. Did it not come across?"

"I'll get used to it," Yasha said.

Tony glanced at Steve, then away again. "Did you have a good time?"

A pause. "Yes," Yasha said, sending Steve a look like he didn't understand why he was staying silent.

"Would it be all right if I accompanied you to wherever you're going next?" Tony asked. There was no point in showing up to say good morning and then leaving again. Besides, even if plenty of people knew that they didn't wake up together, it was still good if they showed up to breakfast at the same time.

"No," Steve said.

Yasha gave him a weird look for that, then back at Tony. "Yes." He grabbed Tony's arm as he passed, urging him to walk with him.

Tony fell into line, and he didn't send Steve a smug look like he wanted to. He heard Steve sigh before joining them. If he were a better person, this would be the time when he apologized. It wouldn't even be a full apology. A partial one would be more than enough to get Yasha back on his good side-- assuming that Yasha was even upset with him over what he'd said to Steve yesterday, which he wasn't sure about-- even if it wouldn't work on Steve. 'Sorry for overreacting last night.' That's it. That's all he'd have to say. But frankly, he didn't want to give Steve the satisfaction of making him give in first.

"Have you had a pleasant morning?" Yasha asked stiffly.

Tony tried not to be overly surprised by him asking that. He had said that he was trying, and this was proof. "I have, yes. Had a good talk with your brother."

"Bucky was already up?" Yasha asked.

"Well, I think I woke him up when I knocked. The point is that he made me see that I've been a bit uptight since I got here."

"Mm," was all Yasha said.

"Don't get your hopes too high, but I am going to work on it," Tony said. He ignored Steve altogether. If he wasn't going to apologize to him, then he had nothing to say to him at all.

No response. Well, he couldn't expect for a completely normal conversation, he supposed, even if Yasha had been the one to start it.

Tony was just going to admit it: he was a little disappointed. Oh the tournament was still entertaining, but all of the events he saw on the first day were ones he was familiar with. He was hoping there would be something new for him to watch, but he guessed that would come tomorrow-- since all the final bouts were happening on the last day. Also, boxing. Boxing was happening entirely on the last day, and he didn't understand why. The board for progress on it didn't look anything like the score charts for the other sports, and he had no idea why that was. He thought about asking Yasha, but it was more important to Tony that they talk about what was happening right in front of them than the future events.

It was disappointing to him to not have new sports that he could learn about, but it was a good bonding time for him and Yasha. They talked more while watching the first day of tournament events than they had the rest of the past two weeks combined. Yasha knew almost all of the competitors and was seemingly happy to tell Tony about them when he asked.

"Today was fun," Tony remarked when they were in Yasha's rooms again.

"It was good to see you so happy," Yasha said quietly.

Tony looked over at him, but Yasha was looking at the floor as he stripped out of his outer-layer of clothing. "Weren't you hot in all of that? It was pretty warm, today."

Yasha shrugged.

"Are you all right? You've gone quiet on me again."

He didn't say anything, which, to Tony, communicated that he wasn't all right.

He padded over and put a hand on Yasha's shoulder, only for him to move away as soon as his hand made contact. Tony blinked. "Um. Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or do I have to guess?"

"It reflects badly on me for you to go in Bucky's room. You should've been more discreet."

"Discreet? I wasn't aware I needed to be discreet to talk to my brother in law."

"It's improper," Yasha said, sounding like he was having to force the words past his teeth.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know. I thought he would've told me if it was, but he didn't mention it." And that had been his measure for whether or not it was improper. Apparently, he needed a different measuring device.

"Hmph."

"Are you seriously mad at me for this? I didn't do it to make you look bad. If I'd known, I wouldn't have done it."

"Why were you talking to him so early?" Yasha asked, looking over at Tony.

"Because I was awake," Tony said, his voice lilting up at the end even though it wasn't a question. For once, it was the complete truth. It wasn't a secret that he'd wanted to talk to Bucky-- proven largely by the fact that he'd told Yasha about it as soon as he saw him. "I didn't see the point in waiting, just to see if I could talk to him in private later in the day."

"Why did you need to talk to him at all?"

Tony blinked, then blinked again. Was he jealous? Was this how their marriage was going to be? One of them getting jealous, and as they were getting over it, the other one got jealous? "I wanted to know more about you. Since I'm unwilling to talk to your other friend, that made Bucky the only choice I had."

"Since when do you call him Bucky?"

"Since this morning, when he convinced me it was better to be friends with him instead of keeping him at arm's length." Tony didn't really want to ask, but also, he felt like he had to. "Does it bother you that we get along?"

Yasha stared at him. Why was it that every time he pinned Tony with that look, he felt like he could scarcely breathe?

"If you're jealous, you don't need to be. I have no interest in him that way."

Yasha continued to look at him, expression not changing. Not so much as a twitch.

"You don't believe me?"

"No."

"I think I'd be more upset about that if I had taken you at your word when you said there was nothing between you and Steve."

"There is nothing between us."

"And there's nothing between me and Bucky. I talked to him about you the one time, and that's it."

Yasha looked away from him, but more like he was avoiding answering and not like he considered the topic to be dealt with.

"Are you really not going to talk to me? You know what, that's actually your prerogative, and I'm not going to try and force you to talk to me. What I am going to say though, is that if you don't believe me, you should talk to Bucky. You don't have to trust me, but I know you trust him."

"...I don't want for it to be like this," Yasha muttered.

"I don't want for it to be like this either, but we still don't know each other. Even if we agree that we should take things slow, it's impossible for us to do it while we're also pretending to be happy and in love for the public."

Yasha grunted. It sounded like an agreement.

"I enjoyed myself today. It was nice to talk to you. Rather, it was nice to hear you talk to me. If we continue like that, things might get better."

"Might," Yasha agreed, but it didn't feel like much of a victory.

It was the best Tony was going to get from him tonight.

Chapter Text

The second day was simultaneously better than the first, and worse. Better because they already had the experience of this the day before and therefore didn’t have to become accustomed to it at all over again, and worse because every time Yasha looked like he might be starting to relax in regards to Tony, he'd tense up again. Tony well and truly didn't know what he was doing wrong. Unlike when he first came here though, he didn't try to change. Trying to change had only made it worse between him and Yasha. If Yasha had a problem with it, Tony would only change if he said so-- especially since he didn't know what it was he was doing that was causing Yasha to act like this. He was done with taking shots in the dark and hoping it would work. Yasha had said he would be direct, so Tony was going to wait for him to be direct. 

Today was filled with races, and races weren't his favorite events, but sword fighting had been yesterday, and there wouldn't be another round until tomorrow-- and he hadn't even been able to enjoy the sword fighting very much because he'd found himself comparing his style to the ones being employed in the ring, and he'd had to remind himself that he wasn't as skilled as he'd always thought; it had put a bit of a damper on his mood. What he'd enjoyed about yesterday was Yasha's willingness to talk to him.

Boxing was happening entirely tomorrow, along with most of the wrestling. He had no idea what boxing was, and only had the vaguest idea about wrestling-- and that was based entirely on anti-Brookliana sentiments; the phrase 'deviant barbarians' had been thrown around-- but he'd get to see for himself what wrestling was tonight since it was the last event of the day. Boxing was the one that Bucky had mentioned to him, so it's the one he spent more time thinking about. They must be the two most highly rated of the sports, if they both happened largely on the last day, when winners were announced and more people were there to watch.

It was only when Yasha went completely silent on him some time in the afternoon that Tony turned to Bucky to talk, instead of throwing out the occasional comment that Bucky would respond to-- because that is what most of his conversation with Bucky had been since that morning in his room: public and largely incidental.

"You said that you're competing in boxing tomorrow and that's it. Is that the only event you like to do?" Tony asked.

"No," he said with an easy smile, "I normally do quite a few more, but tradition is tradition."

As if Tony knew what tradition meant, in this case. There weren't such things as wedding tournaments in Manhatten. "And in this case, that means?"

Yasha was the one to answer, which was strange, because he hadn't seen it fit to respond to the last four things Tony had tried to say to him. "As family of the groom, he's not meant to steal focus."

Tony still didn't get it.

"One event is allowed so I can also celebrate the wedding, but with all of our training, royals have a tendency to sweep the board when we enter," Bucky explained, seeing his confusion. "One event lets me be involved without it becoming my tournament."

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense." If you were from Brookliana, that is. Things didn't work that way in Manhatten. Not in the slightest. Jousting was considered the king's sport, and it's the only one royals were permitted to enter. "They don't do that sort of thing in Manhatten. It leads me to think I like this place quite a bit better."

"Don't do what sort of thing?" Bucky asked curiously.

"Train us in tourney events. Except jousting, but you don't have that here."

"One of these days, you'll have to tell me what jousting is."

"I think you'll find it terribly unexciting," Tony said, looking back over the sand where a footrace was about to start. He found jousting terribly unexciting. Most of the jousters didn't give the care to their horse that Tony thought they should, which was a massive oversight since the winner was almost always someone that understood their mount.

"If I have to listen to twenty unexciting things in a day, I might as well hear one of them from you," Bucky said.

Tony laughed. "That's the way being a Prince goes, is it?"

"Precisely. I might as well learn something from it, as well as hearing it from you."

"I don't think learning what it is will do you much good. Not unless you're planning to visit Manhatten for a tournament, that is."

"Never say never, Tony," Bucky said, smile widening.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Yasha's hand twitch. It was barely noticeable, and anyone else probably would've thought that it was reflexive, reacting to a breeze or perhaps a bug that had landed only long enough to make its weight felt before leaving again. Unfortunately-- or maybe it was fortunate?-- Tony noticed, and he knew that it meant something. Yasha had told him last night that he thought there was something between the two of them. Tony had thought he was being utterly ridiculous and hadn't given it another thought when he woke up this morning, but it seemed to be on Yasha's mind. Be more discreet, he'd said, and now for him to be acting like that... well, he probably thought that Tony was doing this on purpose. All Tony had wanted was a real conversation, and Bucky had been offering one where Yasha refused. He wished he could say it, in exactly those words, to his husband. 'I wanted to talk to someone, and since you refused, I talked to Bucky.' That's all it had been, and that's all it ever would be.

Tony just smiled at Bucky and turned his attention out in front of them again. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on in Yasha's head. Yasha thought it was obvious that he found Tony attractive; he found it ridiculous that Tony was jealous of his relationship with Steve, and then he turned around and reacted the exact same way to Bucky and Tony's burgeoning friendship. He said that he wanted to court Tony, and then proceeded to ignore him on the second day of the tournament-- although, in the interest of looking at the situation truthfully, Tony had to admit that Yasha had talked to him quite a bit the first day of the tournament. It was only after the topic of jealousy was brought up in regards to Bucky that Yasha had gotten prickly.

At the time, Tony had dismissed it as ridiculous because to him, it was ridiculous. He had zero interest in Bucky in a way that was romantic or sexual; it was purely because he was lonely and Bucky was kind to him. He’d felt like Yasha had to have known that because only one of them should be lost at a time, and Tony was currently filling that role-- and would be for the foreseeable future because he was the one living in an entirely new country surrounded by strangers.

Why would Yasha think that he was interested in Bucky? Or, even worse, why would he think that the two of them were already engaged in some sort of relationship? Tony knew that he didn't have any evidence for it because he hadn't acted in any way to give him that impression. Any so called evidence Yasha had was fabricated in his mind and had no basis in what Tony had done.

Now Tony had to figure out how to say that to Yasha and how to make him believe it. Easier said than done. He could tell Yasha, word for word, what he'd been thinking earlier, but it wouldn't do any good. He'd tried to tell him that last night, and Yasha had remained unconvinced. Rather, he'd said that he wanted to believe Tony, and they'd agreed to keep talking today at the tournament to try and continue getting along. Tony took that as Yasha being thoroughly unconvinced since they weren't talking now, not to mention that Yasha had reacted like that to Tony and Bucky talking.

All right, so Yasha was jealous and not happy with Tony because of it. 

The question then became: what was he going to do about it? Tony wasn't going to stop talking to Bucky just because it made Yasha uncomfortable-- Tony knew that he wasn't doing anything wrong. They weren't flirting or doing anything like it; all they'd done was talk. Admittedly, some of that talking had happened in the privacy of Bucky's room one morning, too early and private to be considered proper, but Tony had hoped that that wouldn't be the case when he did it. Telling Yasha that all they'd done was talk hadn't helped, and repeating it once again wouldn't do anything-- other than make Tony feel like he was banging his head against a wall.

He spent the rest of the races like that. Thinking and staying quiet. It probably wasn't making the situation any better, but hopefully it also wasn't making it worse. He wasn't talking to Bucky anymore. He could try to talk Yasha again, but what good what it do? Anything meaningful they could say needed to be done in private, and for that, they had to wait.

The bright side was that Yasha finally relaxed. When Tony didn't get snippy with him or start talking to Bucky again, he let the tension ease out of his shoulders. Yasha was an enigma. Tony was becoming increasingly convinced that he'd never understand the man. And yes, maybe that was an overreaction on his part, because they were coming up on two weeks of knowing each other, and two weeks was hardly enough time to get a true judge of a person's character. That being said, talking to Bucky had led Tony to believe that Yasha was always like this. It wasn't a matter of first meeting jitters for him, as far as Tony could tell. It just seemed to be the way that Yasha was. Tony couldn't imagine him being any other way, but he certainly wouldn't complain if he got a bigger clue as to what was going on in his head.

The whole situation was frustrating. Tony didn't trust Yasha and Steve's relationship, and Yasha didn't trust Bucky and Tony's relationship. Yasha said there was nothing between him and Steve, but Bucky thought that they had a history. For whatever reason, Yasha didn't believe that there was nothing between his husband and his twin brother, and the subject of Steve was a non-issue for him where Tony was concerned.

Tony kind of wanted to shove Yasha onto the floor and sit on top of him until he finally confessed-- either that there was a past relationship with Steve, or that he was paranoid about Tony and Bucky even though he knew there was nothing happening there. In his mind, it was a solid way of dealing with the situation, up until his thoughts took an unfortunate but not unexpected turn. Sex. Unfortunate yes, but completely predictable.

He forced himself to pay attention to the footrace happening in front of him, then wished that he hadn't. Steve was there, and oh look, he was winning. Not that Tony could even pretend to be surprised. Of course he was fucking perfect. Why would he not be? If he had flaws, Tony might actually be able to convince himself that he was better for Yasha than Steve was. 

Another race, and another, and the sand was rebrushed for the start of the next event.

It didn't matter if Steve was better for Yasha, because Tony was the one he was married to. And if Yasha and Bucky were both to be believed about it, Yasha wouldn't be with someone else while they were together.

This whole marriage business had put Tony's head in a spin, even though he'd thought that he was prepared for it when he started journeying to Brookliana. Gods, he'd been so hopeful, hadn't he? He'd wanted love at first sight. He'd gotten it... but only on his side. Yasha hadn't felt the same. Instead of a sweeping romance, they had distrust and stilted communication. Even when they managed to talk to each other, it's like they were two cogs that couldn't match up and kept slipping and jamming as they tried to work.

That being said, he'd have to try talking to Yasha again tonight. He didn't know what he'd say, but he had to try. He had plenty of time to sit around and wait for things to work themselves out, but that wasn't how he lived, and he wasn't about to start now.

That was his plan: talk to Yasha once they were alone tonight. That plan got thrown into the ocean when the next event started to get set up-- wrestling-- and there was something that Tony hadn’t expected to see. 

His hands tightened in his lap, curling around each other painfully. He averted his eyes from the contestants, and he could feel a blush rising in his face. He cleared his throat. "Yasha?"

"Hm?"

"You didn't tell me that they fought in the nude."

A pause. In his peripheral vision, he could see Yasha looking at him. Bucky, he noticed, was letting them handle this themselves. "It makes you uncomfortable," Yasha said slowly, like he couldn't understand it.

"Let's just say the number of naked people I've seen can be counted on one hand, and I was hardly expecting to expand that number in the middle of a tournament." It even felt like a lie to say that he could count all the naked people he'd seen on one hand because it was only family. Himself, of course, and his siblings. His parents. No one else. Servants were always dressed if they attended him, and he certainly hadn't had sex with anyone to see them naked in that way. The closest he’d gotten to sex was with Yasha, and Yasha hadn’t been naked at any point that night. 

"What about it bothers you?" Yasha asked haltingly. He was trying to be understanding, which Tony appreciated even if it made him blush harder.

"In Manhatten, you only see family or a lover in a state of undress. More than that, I suppose, if you're a servant."

"It... doesn't matter. Here." A pause. "You can leave, if you need to."

Tony could leave because it was rather hard to force a Prince to do anything if they declared they weren't going to do it, but that wasn't the kind of Prince he wanted to be. "Distract me?" Tony asked. He forced his gaze back towards the sand.

"How?"

"Talk to me. Please."

Yasha didn't frown, but there was a furrow between his eyebrows. "About what?"

"I don't know. Your favorite story, your favorite food. Anything."

Yasha cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Tony worried that he’d refuse. 

“Please, it can be anything. I don’t care, I just need to be distracted from this.” 

When there continued to be silence from Yasha, Tony thought he would say nothing. Just as he was about to give up, Yasha said, "Have you heard the story of the twin princes and the dragon?"

"No, tell me about it," Tony said, leaning closer to him so that he wouldn’t have to speak loudly and disturb anyone else, and they both kept their eyes out on the field. Tony felt like his face would never cool, but at least he wasn't thinking too much about what he was seeing, he was thinking about what Yasha was saying.

"It's, um, ancient Brookliana. Back when our country was the same as Manhatten and the islands."

"Right," Tony said, because that was a common theme with Brooklianan fairytales, even if it didn't appear in any Manhattian ones, as far as he could tell.

"There were these twin princes. One was to be King, and the other would be murdered."

"Murdered?"

Yasha gave a small nod. "In the stories, twins and triplets were supposed to only have one live to adulthood. Whoever was the most worthy got to live, and the others were killed."

"That's horrible."

"It's just in the stories," Yasha said quietly.

"Sorry,” Tony said. He swallowed thickly. “Sorry, I'll stop interrupting. So the princes were at odds."

"It wasn't decided which one was supposed to die yet, so they were supposed to win the current King's favor. One of them had heard tell of a dragon's nest, and he thought that if he brought back a dragon, he'd win. The other one didn't have physical prowess. He couldn't win any fights or impress his father with his skill with a sword, so he thought if he could make a great discovery, he'd be the winner.

"The one looking for a dragon kept following stories, trying to track it down. He traveled all over the country. All the way from the east to the west, to the mountains to the sea. He got lost in a forest, but he won the favor of the tribe living there and they helped him leave if he promised to help them when they asked for it."

"And he agreed?"

Yasha nodded again. "He figured that if he became King, he'd be helping everyone in his country as he ruled, and if he died, then he was not meant to help anyone."

Tony wasn't entirely sure he liked this story, but he'd wait for the ending to say for sure.

"The current King became sick, dying from a slow illness. The other son thought that if he could heal him, then it would be enough to win him the throne. He became the best doctor the country had ever seen, but all he could do was ease his father's pain. He started to travel, just as his brother had so that he could learn more about medicine, but he didn't make it very far. Every village he came across, he wanted to help everyone. He didn't make it out of the province before he had to stop. The age of adulthood was fast approaching, and neither of them had accomplished their goal. They both returned home from their travels to talk to the King and see who he was planning to choose, when a plague broke out."

"This story doesn't sound very happy," Tony couldn't help but say.

"It has a happy ending," Yasha said, sounding amused. Of course, that was mostly a guess on Tony's part. It didn't sound like annoyance, but it was something other than flat.

"The King tells the twins that neither of them have impressed him, and if they don't achieve something before their next birthday, he's going to have both of them killed and put their younger brother on the throne. The twin that was a doctor starts working on curing the plague. It's killing all of their people, making them suffer, and he wants it to stop. The brother that had looked for the dragon knew that finding the cure would make his twin be the King and leave him to die. He knew that his last chance to become King was if he left then to find the dragon. One of his friends had seen the dragon and sent him a letter, telling him exactly where its nest was, but he'd traveled all over the country. He'd met so many people that he couldn't bear to think of them dying, and he knew that once his brother found the cure, he'd need help distributing it. So instead of going for the dragon, he stayed, and with the doctor's research and his knowledge of the land, they were able to cure the population."

"What did the King do?" Tony asked. He was barely aware of the wrestling happening in front of them, and that was exactly how he liked it.

"Nothing. He died while they were helping the people and never gave orders about what should happen with them. The twins agreed that they could rule better together than apart."

"No one tried to stop them?"

"The story ends there,” Yasha said, shrugging with one shoulder. “They ruled happily to the ends of their days."

"What about the dragon?"

"Hm?"

"One of the twins was looking for a dragon. What happened to it?"

"The last picture in the book is of the twins side by side in their crowns, a dragon curled around them. I guess that means they found it." Then Yasha frowned, but Tony could barely see it from the corner of his eye. "It's been… a while since I read it. Maybe they find the dragon while they're curing everyone."

"I hope so."

Yasha's frown deepened.

"What? You don't like dragons?"

"I think the twins and the dragon might be a different story."

"So there's not supposed to be a dragon in the plague story?"

"There's a dragon," he said. He looked like he was worried about getting the details wrong, which Tony found oddly endearing. "I don't think the story is called The Twins And The Dragon," Yasha said a minute later.

"How many stories are there with twins and dragons?" Tony asked curiously. 

"Three... maybe four."

Tony turned away from the wrestling for a moment to look at Yasha.

Yasha's eyes darted to him for a second, then refocused on the pair in the sand. "What?"

"How many stories are there about twins in Brookliana?" Something in Yasha’s tone had made it sound like there were entire books filled with them, and he was curious. 

"A lot," Yasha confirmed. 

“That’s nice,” Tony said, then turned back to the match. Because it was nice. Tony might’ve felt better about his own position if there had been stories about arranged marriages for the sake of an alliance.

The story did make Tony feel better, though. It was easier to ignore the specifics of what was happening in front of him when he could think about the story instead. Three or four stories about twins and dragons, and countless ones about twins. The library surely had them if Yasha was familiar with them, so Tony would get the chance to read all of them himself some day soon. 

The tournament was done for the day, and they ate dinner in a loud hall with very little said between them that had any substance. Idle remarks on the state of the food and that they were looking forward to the last day of the tournament tomorrow. Nothing that Tony couldn't have said to a hundred other people. It was almost like the story about the dragon had never happened. It was the most that Yasha had said to Tony today, and after he’d told it, he reverted back to silence. 

They went to their room together at the end of the meal, and Tony really shouldn't think of it as their room because when the wedding celebration ended, Tony was going to go back to his own rooms and stop intruding on Yasha's. That was what they'd agreed on, and he didn't see Yasha changing his mind on it any time soon-- the plague story notwithstanding. Tony wasn't sure how well he'd react to waking up pressed against Yasha, but he could admit that it was something he wanted. (To himself. He sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to anyone else. Not right now.)

He didn't judge Yasha's complete lack of desire to continue sharing a bed with him based on the state of their interactions that day. He judged it based on the way Yasha would get in bed and immediately get as close to the edge as he could. Tony was afraid he'd fall off in the middle of the night with no space to roll over.

"I was thinking about how best to say this," Tony said conversationally as he pulled back the blanket on his side of the bed, "and I came up blank, so I'm just going to spit it out and hope for the best. You're being ridiculous. If you don't want to talk to me because you don't like me or have changed your mind about wanting to get to know me, then that's fine." Not fine really, but he could accept it. It was legions better than this guessing game he kept failing at. He looked at Yasha then, hands on his hips. "But if this is because you're jealous of me and your brother, then I feel obliged to tell you how wholly unnecessary it is."

Yasha blinked, as though taken aback. Although that was mostly a guess-- Tony hoped he was getting better at reading his expressions, but he didn’t know for sure.

"Really. If I could hammer one thing into your head, it would be this. What makes you think I'm the least bit interested in him?"

"Everyone likes Bucky," Yasha stated.

"All right? Good for him. And good for you, since when you're King, he'll be your advisor. It's good for your reign that everyone likes him."

The look Yasha gave him then conveyed that he thought Tony was being thick.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that," he admitted. Honesty was the only way he could think of dealing with Yasha, so he was going to try it for as long as he could manage.

Yasha broke eye contact, looking down at their bed. Well, his bed, that they were currently sharing, but only for a few more days-- unless Tony could convince Yasha to change his mind, a bet he wouldn't take. "Everyone always wants him. He's more handsome."

Tony tried not to snort at that because seriously, what? Yes, Bucky was handsome, but he was hardly more attractive than Yasha. Not by a long shot. No offense, but he couldn't imagine thinking of Bucky as more attractive than Yasha. They were twins and therefore had similar features, but there was something about Yasha that drew Tony in, whether he liked it or not. And, to be clear, he liked it all the times where Yasha wasn't ignoring him.

"Most of the people I've been with wanted him first, but he never looked twice at them."

"So you're worried that because he has looked at me twice that I'm going to cheat on you?" Tony asked slowly.

"No. You said you wouldn't."

"Then what's bothering you?"

"You wouldn't do anything, but that doesn't mean you don't want him."

Tony had to prevent himself from groaning in frustration. "Why is it that you'll take my word on my not being with anyone else, but you won't believe me when I say that I have no interest in him that way?"

Yasha continued looking down at the bed.

"He's the only person here I could call a friend, and unlike you, he actually pays attention to me when I talk to him."

"I pay attention to you," Yasha said with a frown, glancing up at him.

"Then why were you ignoring me today? I kept trying to talk to you, and you acted as though you couldn't hear me."

"You had no problem talking to Bucky when I failed to respond," Yasha said, expression smoothing back out.

"See, we're back to you being jealous for no good reason. I also feel the need to point out that if it was going to bother you that much, you could've prevented it from happening at all by actually talking to me. You might recall that I didn't start talking to him until you decided to stop responding."

Yasha grunted, but it didn't really sound like he was agreeing with Tony.

“Not to mention I practically had to beg you to tell me that story about the twins.” 

He grunted again. 

Tony threw his hands up in frustration. "This is why you're impossible to talk to."

The frown was back. "We're talking right now."

"Yes, and it's like pulling teeth."

The frown deepened. "What?"

"I guess that's not a saying in Brookliana." He'd thought that it would translate over fine, but apparently not. "It means that yes, this is happening, but it's difficult for no good reason. We're talking, but it's as if I'm having to force you into every word. I don't want that. I don't want to feel like I'm having to corner you every time we talk."

"Bucky's easy to talk to."

"I'm well aware," Tony said dryly. "Is that your way of saying you're done trying to talk to me for the night?"

"Hm."

"I'll take that as a yes," he said with a sigh.

"It wasn't meant to be one," Yasha said, and he didn't elaborate further.

Fine. If he wanted to be like that, then Tony would let it happen. "Bucky told me something interesting yesterday morning."

"Mm?"

"He said that he always thought you and Steve were having sex."

Yasha stilled.

"And since he is your brother and he knows you better than anyone, you can understand why I'm more inclined to take his word on it than yours. Especially since all he did was confirm what I already thought, and it would certainly benefit you more to lie to me about it than tell me the truth when you know it would bother me."

He seemed frozen in place, so Tony continued even though it was a terrible idea.

"Maybe I would've been better off marrying Bucky. If nothing else, he doesn't lie to me."

Yasha glared at him then.

It was nothing like his simple intense look, where Tony felt pinned in place, waiting for something momentous to happen. This was at least a reaction, even if it wasn't a good one. This look rather made Tony feel like he was about to have a sword at his throat and a threat spit in his face. If he was smart, he would be afraid, but he'd already learned that he wasn't half as smart as he'd thought he was. So instead of fear, he felt satisfaction. Satisfaction at finally getting a reaction from him-- that wasn't confusion, because that hardly counted. Tony gave Yasha a sunny smile. He knew he was being an asshole about this, but frankly, he didn't care. It was impossible to feel guilt when he was so pleased at having said something that Yasha actually reacted to instead of holding onto his blank expression. "That's what you expect for me to say, isn't it? That I wish I'd ended up with someone other than you? Or was it just that you want me to say I'd prefer Bucky to you?" 

"If you don't mean it, don't say it," Yasha growled, eyes flashing. He clenched his jaw after he finished speaking, and Tony wanted to put his mouth on the hinge and feel it move under his lips.

"Maybe I would prefer to be married to him, because he doesn't lie to me, and he doesn't mind talking to me, and whenever I say something that bothers him he tells me right away and doesn't make me guess as to the reason. He certainly wouldn't have abandoned me on our wedding night."

Yasha left, heading for the washroom attached on one side, stomping away in anger.

Tony sat on the bed. He didn't get in though, because he was hoping to say a proper goodnight to him before he started trying to go to sleep. Insulting him and then being asleep when he came back wasn’t how Tony wanted to do this. 

He waited.

It was long enough that he started to feel bad. Yasha had told him that everyone preferred Bucky and he expected for Tony to feel the same, and Tony had reacted by rubbing his face in it. 

Yeah, he was great husband material. Even if he hadn't been betrothed to Yasha since his birth, he expected his family would've found a way to ship him off one way or another. 

Yasha would probably come around to the idea of sending him off to a winter home and telling him that he was permitted to stay there year round-- which is what his grandfather had done with his grandmother, Tony knew, and it had worked quite well for them.

Maybe he should go back to his rooms and start packing for another trip when the wedding celebration ended. But no, he couldn't just decide to do that himself, he'd have to wait for Yasha to actually tell him to do it. Besides, their last conversation aside, Tony didn't want to leave Yasha. He liked it here, and he was in no hurry to go to another unfamiliar place to wait out his days.

He waited a bit longer.

He really should apologize to Yasha. He'd been out of line, and he knew it. He hadn't felt sorry about it at first, which he didn't think helped. If he'd apologized immediately, maybe Yasha wouldn't have held it against him. He had no idea what sort of grudges Yasha could hold, much less how upset he'd be over this one.

He knew he had to apologize, but how did he apologize to someone that, more often than not, refused to engage? Yasha kept distance between them, and he didn't mean physically. It's like Yasha was trying to keep him at an emotional arm's length, and Tony had only given him an extra shove away by talking about Bucky. That being said, he noticed that Yasha hadn't had a reply to Tony's accusation of his relationship with Steve. He'd gone still, yes, but maybe that was a mirror to Tony's own disbelief at his husband's jealousy. It was entirely possible-- though he was decidedly not happy about it-- that the situations were the same. That Steve and Yasha had as much going on between them as Tony and Bucky did. He wasn't sure how much he believed it, but he had to admit that it was a possibility.

Then he frowned and got to his feet cautiously. It did not take this long to relieve oneself, and Tony had waited a while and heard nothing in that whole time. Either there was a passage to leave his rooms through there, or he was hiding away.

Tony walked over and opened the door, slowly, to give Yasha time to tell him to leave if he so desired.

He hadn't really known what to expect when he opened the door, but he certainly hadn't had it in mind that Yasha would be sitting in the empty tub, head leaned back to rest against the rim.

"I think if you want a bath, you're supposed to fill it with water first," Tony said, voice pitched quiet so it didn't sound like he was trying to pick a fight.

"Mm."

"I also think you're supposed to take your clothes off, but I'm no expert," Tony said, then wished that he hadn't. "I can call a servant for you. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help."

Yasha snorted, and it sounded like a laugh. Or close to it, anyway.

"May I ask why you're resting in the tub?"

"I wanted to get away from you."

That was so unsurprising that it didn't even hurt. Tony would've wanted to get away from himself too. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?" Tony asked. If he wasn't going to leave the room, then surely there was something he could do to help right now.

A pause. "I want you to like me." Yasha took a deep breath and released it with a whoosh, his chest heaving. "I want for you to like me more than you like Bucky."

"You realize that it's easier to like him because he actually talks to me, right?" Tony said. Fuck. That was not how he'd resolved to act when he entered the room. "What I mean is that I want for you to like me, too. You don't make it easy to talk to you. Every time I try, I never know if you're going to welcome it, or if you're going to push me away. It's not fun trying to get close to you and not knowing which it's going to be."

"I'm not-" Yasha stopped, throat working. It was interesting to see from this angle, with Yasha's head tipped back like that. Tony could see the full column of it stubbled with the beginnings of a beard that he still hadn't let grow out-- maybe lightly stubbled was how Yasha liked for his face to be. "I'm not trying to be difficult."

"I know," Tony said, walking closer. He sat down on the edge of the tub near Yasha's feet. "It would be easier if you were trying to make it hard on me, because then all I'd have to do was convince you to drop it."

Yasha sighed again. "I can't be anyone other than who I am."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to be."

"You said-"

"I didn't mean that I want for you to be a different person. As far as I can tell, you're fine the way you are, but we have problems fitting together. I can't read you, and without knowing what you're thinking, I have to guess, and I keep guessing wrong. Or, in the case of earlier, I want so badly to get you to react to me at all that I start saying things I don't mean."

Yasha looked at him then. Somehow, lounging in an empty tub in his sleep clothes, he looked as regal as he would in a Prince's finery on the throne. Tony would love it if they had the sort of relationship where he could crawl in with him, but part of the reason they found themselves in this situation was because they didn't have that sort of relationship. "I wouldn't blame you. If you did like him."

"I know you mean that to be kind, but I assure you that none of my interest in Bucky is as a lover." Tony took a bracing breath, then said, "Don't you think if I were that comfortable with sex, we wouldn't have had any problems our night together?"

Yasha continued to look at him. It felt to Tony, that if he was going to have a stare that intense, his eyes should be dark, not bright grey. "True." He leaned his head on the edge of the tub again. He sighed. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it, Prince Anthony."

Tony winced. "You can call me Tony." It wasn't right that his husband hadn't been invited to call him by his familiar name, but his brother had been. "People only call me Prince Anthony when they're upset with me, or trying to remind me that I'm behaving inappropriately."

"I'll keep that in mind," Yasha said, one corner of his mouth ticking up. Tony could see it only because he was still sitting on the edge of the tub. He could see Yasha like this, but he didn't think that Yasha could see him with his head tilted the way it was.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"It's personal."

Yasha made a noise to show that he understood.

"Our first night together. When you... stopped. Why did you? I told you that I was fine with it, and you'd been enjoying yourself before."

Yasha didn't answer at first. He took several, even breaths before responding. "I thought I told you why."

"You said something about not wanting me to have sex with you purely out of duty, but I thought that was just an excuse," Tony admitted. "Besides, it wasn't purely out of duty. Only partially."

"It felt like your choice to be with someone you wanted had been taken from you," Yasha said slowly, like he was piecing it together as he said it. "I only felt guilt at pushing you. At selfishly asking you for more when it wasn't what you wanted." 

"I wanted it."

"I don't think it counts as you wanting it if you were driven by political obligation."

"I would've wanted you anyway."

Yasha took a sharp breath in. It was quiet, but it was there. This room had been built specifically so that noise did not carry. It meant that there was a cushion of silence that Tony was only used to experiencing in winter when it first snowed. It meant that when he took that breath in, it was the only sound in the room at all.

"I mean, not quite that fast, I admit. Jumping right into it did make me nervous, and if I could've chosen to put it off for a few days, I would have. But I did want you." Tony licked his lips, wondering if he should add the next part, only to spit it out so that he couldn't take it back. "Do want you."

"Steve and I had sex," Yasha said, and Tony felt a little jolt.

Was this him saying that he didn't want to talk about their own relationship anymore? It was- well, as topics went, Tony felt like this had come out of nowhere. They'd been leading somewhere else, and now Yasha was dragging this back to the forefront. Dragging him back to it on a rocky road where Tony could feel every little pain. 

"Once. We... it was only once," Yasha continued haltingly. "We’d been flirting, so we tried it. It didn’t lead anywhere. I didn’t tell you because it’s nothing. It was years ago, and neither of us have thought about it in as long. We were never in love. Never close." 

“You don’t love him?” Tony asked, needing to hear it again. 

“No.” He swallowed thickly, Tony's view of it clear with his head tilted back still. "You don't think of Bucky that way?"

"I've only had eyes for you," Tony said, and he felt that it was too honest, but maybe for Yasha, it was exactly the right amount of honest. Finally hearing the truth about Steve made him feel like he could do it. "The only time I thought anything of him that came close was when I first saw him and thought he was the Prince James I'd been engaged to for so long. Why weren't you there to greet me?" Tony asked innocently. He hadn't brought it up before now because he knew it would come across as accusing, but now it was truly innocent. "I've been curious."

Yasha didn't react to him asking about it. Other than to answer, that is. "I was in the training yard when we received word that you were arriving. I injured someone while I was there. I couldn't leave him on his own after it was my fault."

"Oh." Whatever answer Tony had been expecting, that wasn't it. Actually, 'whatever answer' didn't apply here. He knew what answer he'd expected, but that hadn't been it. He'd expected for Yasha to admit that he didn't want to meet him, and it was only after they saw each other that he began to change his mind about Tony. Interest in a pretty face, that's what Tony had been expecting. Instead, Yasha provided him with a good excuse, a solid reason. "I wish you would've told me that when we met instead of just claiming to be busy. I think it would've solved a few misunderstandings between us since then."

"If you want to hate me, I would deserve it," Yasha said.

"That's not what you want, though. Hating you wouldn't make my life better, and it wouldn't make either of us happy."

Yasha raised his head and looked at Tony. "What would make you happy?"

If Tony had thought he looked comfortably lounged before, now he looked intimidating. As self-assured as ever. Tony wondered what it would be like to have that much confidence. He used to be like that-- cocky and pleased about it. "Knowing where I stand with everyone. I keep guessing and getting it wrong; it's like being yanked back and forth by the arm. I'd be happy if I could go for a ride every morning and every night without guilt. I'd like to spend time with you and know that you enjoy it instead of suffering through it because you don't want to tell me to leave."

"I don't suffer through the time we spend together," Yasha said.

"If you say so. I suppose I'd also like to have a few friends." He hadn't really had friends back in Manhatten. He'd been too focused on other matters, and by the time he cared to try, anyone that was suitable for his friendship was already involved with one of his siblings and in no mood to make an acquaintance with the Prince that was leaving. "What would make you happy, Yasha?"

One corner of his mouth lifted, and his gaze did not waver. "To feel as if I am ruling well. To know that I don't make you miserable."

"Would that make you happy, or would it keep you from feeling guilty?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Yasha. We're talking about happiness. Reach for the stars, I won't stop you."

"It would be easier to ask for the stars than ask that you fall in love with me. In your own list, you said that you'd be happy if you didn't feel like you were bothering me. I should... adjust my own wishes accordingly. If only because I have never been capable of making someone fall in love with me."

Tony had a feeling he was going to regret asking, but he still said, "What do you mean?"

"My past relationships have been one-sided."

"Why were you trying to get anyone to fall in love with you at all? You were promised to me."

The look on Yasha's face could only be described as guilty.

Tony felt a familiar rush of emotions, ones that seemed connected to his husband and any time they talked for too long. This conversation had started well enough, and now it was going downhill. He should leave and let them end on a happier note than they'd spent most of the day. Still, he couldn't stop himself for pressing for more. "Are you going to answer me?"

"I fell in love. I'm not going to apologize for it."

"What about me? You've known that we were to be married as long as I have," Tony pointed out. And not to be too terrible about the situation, but their union was to help solidify the alliance. What was the point of marrying him if Yasha didn't care about it?

"I thought they'd have you marry Bucky and it wouldn't matter."

Wouldn't matter. He knew, logically, that Yasha was referring to the alliance. It wouldn't matter for the alliance if Tony married one Prince instead of the other. Emotionally, it was hard to convince himself not to care about it. It felt like Yasha couldn't be bothered to care about Tony's future one way or the other before they met. He cared now, that much was obvious to Tony, but he hadn't cared before. While Tony had been hellbent on learning skills that would impress his future husband, Yasha hadn't given two fucks what happened to him. He knew that it wasn't that simple anymore, not now that they'd talked so much and gotten to know each other better.

"I'm going back to bed," Tony said, getting to his feet. "Don't feel like you have to hide from me in here. It's your room."

It had been going so well, and... well, he got information that he didn't want to learn. Better to live with a bit of pain than in ignorance, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

It didn't change anything, not really. He was the same that he'd been before they talked. Yasha was the same. Their relationship hadn't gotten markedly worse for it. It hurt a little, like pricking his finger on a needle, but it was hardly the gaping wound that some of their previous interactions had felt like.

Even through the hurt, even thinking that he wanted to get some physical distance between the two of them before he could say something he'd regret, a part of him had wanted to crawl into the tub with Yasha and tell him that falling in love started with a smile and they should start right now.

He rolled into bed and got comfortable. He'd barely been there long enough to feel tired again when Yasha joined him. He stayed on the far side of the bed like he always did.

"Bucky told me it was stupid," Yasha said quietly. "When I fell for her."

Tony didn't say anything. What would he have said? 'He was right'? It seemed pretty clear to him that Yasha already knew that.

"I'm not sorry for loving someone, but I am sorry that I didn't give you much thought."

Tony didn't roll over to face him. "You've already apologized for that. Before the tournament, remember?"

"I didn't know if you remembered," he admitted. "It feels like you deserve more than what you got with me."

"'Deserve' is a risky word to start using. You mention what I deserve, I tell you what you deserve, and we end up deciding that the whole situation is terrible. There's nothing we can do about it. We're stuck with each other."

"That may be true, but I don't want you to feel like you're stuck with me."

"I didn't mean it like that," Tony said with a sigh.

Silence. Then, "Right. Sorry."

"Let's just go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow, if you want." He wasn't going to count on Yasha still wanting to talk to him in the morning. Or any time tomorrow, really. Everything felt different when the sun was shining.

"...Sure. Goodnight."

Chapter Text

Tony woke the next morning with an arm over his waist. That was what he noticed first because he was holding onto the forearm like it was an extra blanket. It was only after he noticed that he was holding something and checked what it was, that he was awake enough to take note of anything else. 

Like that Yasha was curled around him. 

Tony's back was plastered to his front, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good. Brookliana was warmer than Manhatten, it's true, but he always liked to be overly warm while he slept, and Yasha gave off enough heat that he didn't have to worry about how he was going to get warm and stay that way.

He was awake enough to notice these things, but not really awake enough to put two thoughts together. It meant that he felt like the world tilted around him when Yasha started to put space between them. Wait, that wasn't quite right. Tony woke up because Yasha was trying to put some space between them. When he'd woken up, he'd tightened his hold on Yasha's arm, which was making it harder for him to extricate himself. Tony eased his grip again, and Yasha pulled his hand free, slowly so that he wouldn't wake him up-- not knowing, of course, that he already had.

Tony was too sleepy to open his eyes, much less say something. He felt Yasha get up from the bed, and he was asleep again before he heard him get dressed or leave the room.

He woke up again later, when the room was awash with sunlight. This time, it's because someone had knocked on the door and then entered. It was some of his servants that did it, so they were allowed to enter after not getting an answer. Tony resisted the urge to groan and pull the blanket over his head. If it were a normal day, he would be able to get away with it. His servants wouldn't like him very much for it, but he'd be allowed to do it without causing any big problems.

"Your Highness, we need to prepare you for today's tournament," Jim said, walking closer.

Tony forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. Somehow, it didn't feel like he'd gotten a full night's rest even though he hadn't stayed up late and hadn't gotten up early. Hell, he hadn't even woken up in the middle of the night and not been able to get back to sleep this time-- which happened far too often for his tastes. Had Yasha really been wrapped around him this morning? Or had that been a product of his wishful imagination?

"Late night?" the other one asked.

Tony didn't recognize any of them by voice alone yet, so he had to glance at her. Then he had to search his tired brain for the right name. Pepper. Jim and Pepper. He needed to remember that. He nodded at her question, then yawned. He had a feeling all the stress he'd been feeling since his arrival had finally taken its toll. The night of his wedding, he'd barely slept at all, but hadn't felt the effects of it that day or the next. Clearly, it had caught up with him in the course of last night as he was sleeping.

He saw Pepper and Jim shared an amused look, but neither of them said anything more. People liked to gossip, and whether Tony liked it or not, he was worthy of the gossip, especially right now. He'd just married their Crown Prince, and no one quite knew what to make of him. His talent for talking without saying anything important apparently wasn't something the nobles of Brookliana were accustomed to. No one had said it where he could hear, but he'd be willing to bet that his smiling disposition was confusing people for how he managed to get along with the notoriously closed off Prince James; it was speculation at this point, but he'd keep an eye on it as time went on since how these people perceived him would effect his entire life.

He got ready, still feeling like he was half asleep. He didn't actually stumble, but it felt like he was stumbling around all morning until he sat down for breakfast.

"Did you not sleep well?" Yasha asked.

Tony looked over at him. He could process that Yasha said something to him, but he couldn't piece together what the words all meant together.

"You look tired," Yasha added when he didn't respond.

He blinked. "Yeah."

"Was it... too warm in the room for you?"

"No. It was fine. I slept fine, but I don't think it was long enough." He couldn't rub at his eyes tiredly like he wanted to, so he settled for looking down at his plate.

"If you're not feeling well," Yasha said haltingly, "you can go back to your rooms while I find the doctor."

Tony shook his head. "I don't feel sick, but thank you. I'll be fine. I'm just tired. It won't last for much longer." He hoped. He hoped it wouldn't last for much longer, because he couldn't survive like this. If someone annoyed him too much, he wasn't sure that he could keep from snapping at them.

Yasha got out of his chair, and Tony didn't think anything of it.

Lazily, he reached for the nearest dish and started eating. It was slow going. He was more likely to fall asleep in his chair than he was to eat quickly.

Yasha came back a minute later, and he put a cup of hot brown liquid in front of Tony. Then he got in his own chair and turned to his food like this wasn't strange in the slightest.

Tony peered at the cup distrustfully. It's not like he thought Yasha would poison him or something, but he had no idea what it was, and the lack of an explanation didn't make him feel better. That dessert their wedding night didn’t encourage him to try it. "Yasha?"

"Hm?"

"What is this?" Tony asked, reaching for the cup.

"Coffee. It'll help you wake up."

"Oh. Thanks."

Yasha nodded.

Tony brought the cup closer, but he wasn't too sure about this. It smelled awfully strong, but he had no idea how it would taste. He blew on it when he noticed steam rising from the cup, then took a sip.

"Do you like it?" Yasha asked.

"It's not what I expected." He took another sip. He burned his tongue, so evidently he should've let it cool off a bit more. He set the cup to the side and took a drink of water to soothe his injured mouth, then went back to eating.

He switched back and forth from food to the coffee until he was finished. And, he noticed, he was less tired than he expected to be at this time. It should've taken him much longer to wake up this much after feeling so tired. Whatever coffee was, it worked wonders.

"Thanks," Tony said, then gestured to the now-empty cup. "That coffee really helped. Why haven't I seen it here before?"

"Most nobles only drink it when they need to be awake late."

That made sense for why he hadn't seen it before, then. "How did you get it? If most people don't drink it."

"The servants have it every morning. I asked them for a cup for you."

"Ah. Thank you."

Yasha hesitated, then asked, "Would you like me to arrange a cup for you at breakfast time from now on?"

"I don't think so, but thank you," Tony said, feeling warm at the offer.

Yasha gave him another nod, looking a little awkward as he sat there.

Tony supposed that was fair. He'd said thank you more times to Yasha in the past minute than he had the previous week combined. Which, now that he thought about it, might have something to do with some of the problems they were having. Oh he didn't believe that it was the main problem, but it couldn't have helped. "Are you looking forward to the tournament events today? I've heard that boxing is the most popular."

"It is." A pause. "I am." Another pause, longer this time. Tony gave him the time to think instead of filling the silence. "Bucky always performs well in boxing. I'm looking forward to seeing it."

"We don't have boxing in Manhatten. Maybe you should explain the rules to me so I can appropriately admire your brother's performance."

"The rules aren’t complex. First one down loses."

'First one down'-- did that mean horses? To be honest, Tony was surprised. Brooklianans hadn't struck him as being very appreciative of equine skills in a tournament-- the lack of jousting came to mind-- but he had only been here two weeks, hardly enough time to get a real sampling. "What do you mean first one down? Is it like the first one who falls?"

Yasha blinked at him. It looked like he was about to form an answer for Tony, but a servant came up and grabbed his attention before he got the chance.

"Your Highness, you asked to be informed when your brother started preparing for his bout."

"Thank you," Yasha said, getting to his feet.

The servant bowed then left, and since Tony had nothing else to be doing, he followed Yasha as he left the table. "Where are we going?"

Yasha glanced at him like he was puzzled that Tony was following him, but he wasn't going to object to it. "I'm going to wish Bucky luck."

"I thought you said he always does well."

"And I would like for him to continue doing well. If he breaks his nose again, the doctors said that it won't heal straight. He'll be inconsolable. He needs good luck if he's going to avoid that."

Breaks his nose? Again? That didn't sound like horses. Tony was a little worried that he had no idea what boxing would be like. He also felt that he wasn't going to like it, in spite of how popular an event it was. If Bucky needed good luck to keep from breaking his nose again, it sounded like a bloody sport. Tony didn't think he'd enjoy that very much.

But then, surely he was overreacting. If it was that bad, a Prince wouldn't be participating in it.

"This doesn't sound like a fun sport," Tony said. He was Manhattian, he could get away with it. Besides, he was only saying it to Yasha, and if their past conversations had shown him anything, it's that Yasha didn't care about the minor details like that-- it was only their interactions with each other and Tony's interactions with Bucky that he cared about.

Yasha shot him an amused glance but didn't say anything to disagree with him or convince him that he was wrong about boxing.

"Is it similar to wrestling?" Tony asked. 

"Wrestling is less violent than boxing."

"So you admit that boxing is violent?"

Another amused look. "Wrestling certainly has less punching than boxing."

"Punching?" What the hell kind of sport was this? "Is this a glorified bar fight?"

"Sword play in a tournament is a glorified battle," Yasha pointed out.

"That's different."

Yasha raised an eyebrow slightly, showing that he didn't agree with Tony.

"Sword fighting has armor and a point system that prevents any serious injury from happening. Are there any safety measures like that for boxing?"

Yasha snorted, and Tony had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He was worried that it meant there was just punching until someone passed out. If that was the case, then it made sense why Bucky was concerned about breaking his nose again. However, if that's how it worked, Tony had no idea why this event would exist in tournaments at all. Wouldn't it be considered too low brow for them? Or, if nothing else, too barbaric? And Bucky chose to participate in it?

"Do you normally do boxing?"

"Not my sport," Yasha said with a grunt.

"Not your sport as in you don't like it, or not your sport as in you don't want to compete with your brother?"

Yasha snorted again.

"That's not an answer," Tony said. 

No response.

"Are you going to tell me what the answer is, or do I have to guess?" Tony asked.

"I don't like it. Truly."

Tony nodded, relieved that he hadn’t had to push him more for answers. Maybe their talk last night, no matter how it had ended, had done them some good. 

They made it to Bucky then, who was dressed in athletic clothes and didn't look bothered by what was to come. Of course, unlike Tony, he'd always known what boxing was and was still looking forward to it.

Tony sincerely hoped he was wrong about what boxing was, but he didn't see how he might be wrong about it.

Yasha clasped Bucky in a big hug-- Tony got the feeling that if he'd been embraced like that at any point in his life (including now), he would be crushed. Bucky, however, hugged his brother back like they did this every day. For all Tony knew, they did. "If you lose," Yasha said in Vunitian, pulled back but with a hand still on Bucky's shoulder, "I'm going to laugh."

"I'd expect nothing else," Bucky replied with a laugh, also in Vunitian.

Tony didn't know why they felt that exchange had to be made in a language he didn't speak-- that they thought he didn't speak-- but maybe this was always how they talked to each other when they weren't specifically trying to include other people in the conversation; he'd believe that, if only because he'd done the same as a child when talking to the the head of the palace staff.

"Is he looking forward to it?" Bucky asked, clearly referencing Tony, but he didn't want to alert Tony that he was asking about him.

Tony should probably tell them that he knew Vunitian. If he let it go on for much longer, it would be ridiculous. It’s not like he was trying to spy on them, but no one liked thinking their conversation was private only to learn otherwise later on.

"I don't think so," Yasha said, without glancing at him. Again, he didn't want Tony to know that they were talking about him.

Bucky grinned. "I'm sure you'll be able to console him properly about his lack of excitement."

Yasha rolled his eyes.

If Tony couldn't understand what they were saying, he wouldn't have been able to guess. They were good at obscuring what they were actually talking about. They had years of practice, after all. No hints of who they were talking about, but at least this time, it wasn't anything bad about him. 

The first exchange was a good example, because their tones had done nothing to indicate they were talking about anything more personal or emotional than the troop movements that they later claimed. Tony was reminded, entirely against his will, that Yasha had told his brother that he didn't like Tony in that conversation. Swiftly on the resurgence of that memory was the knowledge that they'd never addressed it. And how could they have? Yasha and Bucky both thought that Tony hadn't heard it.

Instead of it hurting Tony's feelings now, he was befuddled. He believed that Yasha wanted him and was happy that he was here-- in some form, even if it wasn't as enthusiastic as Tony had once hoped he would be. But he was fine with Tony, and Tony now believed that. He was coming around to the idea, if nothing else, instead of constantly looking for evidence to support Yasha's dislike of him. So if he believed that Yasha wanted him here and was happy with him (which he did), then how did he reconcile that first conversation, the one that had initially pushed him over the edge from Yasha simply being apathetic about him, to not liking him? Yasha had said that he didn't like Tony. He'd said it, and he'd said it to his twin brother, the one person that Tony had every reason to believe he never lied to.

It was a tangled web in his head, trying to get all of this sorted, and Tony solidly did not appreciate that he started thinking of it right before the last day of the tournament-- which he was now thinking he wouldn't enjoy, despite all the excitement everyone else had for it. It's not like he could ask Yasha about it really quick before they were back in the public eye, because what if the answer wasn't something he wanted to hear? What would he do then? The answer was valiantly try not to cry, but he'd prefer not to do that if at all possible, thanks.

"Tony," he said, switching back to Brooklin, "would you like to say anything to my idiot brother before we leave him to prepare?"

"Good luck," Tony said by rote.

"Thanks," Bucky said with another laugh. He was so damn cheerful all the time; Tony didn't know how he managed it. Then again, maybe it's because he was actually good at what he was doing, and he didn't have any of the second-guessing going on in his mind that was always taking up space in Tony's. It sounded like a peaceful existence, but maybe Tony would change his mind on that after seeing what boxing was like. "Hope you enjoy it. And if not, there's more wrestling. A lot of people like it better."

"You don't?" Tony asked.

Bucky shrugged. "It's always been more of Yasha's sport than mine."

Huh. So apparently, this is just how they were. He'd known that they got along, had seen it first hand more than enough times to hammer that in, but there was a lack of rivalry there, even of the playful variety. Tony had gotten used to snide comments and declarations that someone was superior in some manner from his own siblings whenever he happened to be in the same room as them-- something he'd avoided more and more when he got closer to his twentieth birthday. He made a mental note to ask Yasha about his own preferences to wrestling when he had a chance. Maybe he'd do it when he finally got around to telling him that he could speak Vunitian. He should do that soon.

But not now. That would make things awkward, and they didn't have time to really talk about it. Yasha might have concerns about what, exactly, he'd heard him talk about, so after they did all that, it would be a good idea to have the conversation end on a high note, with Yasha regaling him with stories of his proficiency at wrestling. 

Yeah, that didn't sound like Yasha. Even when he'd been talking to Tony the first day of the tournament, he had been straightforward and there had been a distinct lack of embellishment to what he said. Tony didn't want to claim that he knew Yasha inside and out, but he was pretty confident in saying that Yasha didn't tell heroic stories about his deeds. Or even praise his own prowess in a sport. Still, Tony had hope that him talking about it would raise his spirits. Assuming that he needed his spirits raised and would want to be around Tony afterwards.

Yasha clapped his brother on the shoulder, and then him and Tony left, heading for the viewing area together.

Tony had been so focused on Yasha lately, that he'd sort of ignored the King and Queen. Never a good idea, he was aware, but it's also not as if they had tried to get his attention and he'd refused to answer. This morning, where he was feeling the best that he had since arriving at their castle, was the perfect time to talk to them again. It's not like he expected to be one of their favorite people, but he would need to be on good terms with them. It wasn't like with Yasha, or even Bucky, where he was going to spend lots of time with them. All he had to do was make nice, and he could do that.

They exchanged pleasantries, and that was all he had time for before Yasha grabbed his attention. "What are you doing?" Yasha asked, frowning down at him. It would annoy Tony that Yasha was bigger than him if he didn’t like it so much. 

"Making polite conversation,” Tony answered. He’d thought it was pretty obvious. 

“Why?” 

“Two main reasons. One, they’re your parents and mine by law now that we’re married. Two, they’re the King and Queen, and it’s always a good idea to have the ruling monarchs think fondly of me.” Less important reasons were that Tony’s life would be easier if everyone here liked him, and he thought that the Queen expected it. She’d told Tony to call her by her given name instead of her title-- which he wasn’t doing-- and that indicated the kind of good terms she wanted them to be on. 

“You are… odd,” Yasha said. 

“I think you’re the only one who would think me odd for being nice to my in-law’s.” 

Yasha gave a noncommittal grunt at that and turned his attention to the tournament as an announcer took the center. 

Tony paid attention because he couldn’t afford to not know what was going on. It’s not as if the rules were laid out for him, but he was still adjusting to how Brookliana did their tournaments. 

Everything was fine until he had a bit of a panic when the first round of boxing started and he learned, to his horror, that it was what he'd worried it would be.

It was more civilized than a barfight, he could admit that much, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. There were clear rules, even if Tony didn't know exactly what they were. He knew enough to tell that there were certain places the boxers weren't allowed to hit, and it was just the two people in the pit, not any other items to raise the danger. There was something on the competitor's hands, and when he asked, Yasha explained that it was to protect their hands and lessen long term damage to the other boxer.

He didn't like it. He felt like it was too brutal, and a part of his mind told him that this is what Brooklianans were like: brutal and savage. It was a completely ridiculous thought that had no basis in truth, and he forcefully put it out of his mind. He was tense, but he thought that he was doing a decent job of hiding it. Yasha could probably tell, but as long as the rest of the audience didn't notice, he had no problem with it.

And then Bucky came out. The first punch Bucky got to the jaw, Tony flinched. His hand went to Yasha automatically, and he squeezed his arm too tight for comfort. He couldn't make himself let go.

"He'll be fine," Yasha muttered, and his hand went to Tony's.

For a moment, Tony thought that Yasha was going to pry his hand off of his arm, but instead, he covered Tony's hand with his own. His thumb rubbed back and forth as if he was hardly aware of the movement, going from the back of his hand to his wrist and back again. Tony's skin over his wrist tingled, unused to being touched there so delicately, and he wished that he wasn't perfectly aware of it at the same time that his focus was still on the match in front of them.

Despite the-- in Tony's opinion-- vicious punch to Bucky's face, he won quickly, and much more soundly than the other participants had so far. It was only after he left the sand that Tony felt he could breathe easily again. With a shuddering breath out, he slowly released his too-tight grip on Yasha's arm. He didn't let go entirely, and Yasha didn't pause or nudge him or otherwise act like he wanted for him to remove his hand.

"Are you all right?" Yasha asked quietly.

"Fine," Tony said, but he still felt a little shaky. He wasn't accustomed to seeing people injured. Jousting had its share of accidents, but the injuries were just that: accidents. Injury wasn't the entire point, as it seemed to be with boxing.

Perhaps he wasn't being fair. Maybe this was simply his first, panicked reaction that he would get past and then feel silly for, but for now, it left him rattled. If they were in private, he might think about hugging Yasha-- he wouldn't do it because he didn't think that the touch would be welcomed, but he'd be able to consider it more seriously than he currently could in their surroundings.

"Does he always win?" Tony asked.

"I've never seen him lose," Yasha replied.

"Well, at least there's that."

"I take it you're not enjoying yourself?"

Tony kept himself from grimacing. "I wouldn't call this my favorite sport." He breathed in, breathed out, and reminded himself that everything was fine. He was in the best situation he'd been in since arriving, and there was nothing to worry about. The competitors were taking punches, but they weren’t in danger of being seriously injured. "At least this is the last day of the tournament."

"I-" Yasha stopped. His thumb kept moving back and forth on Tony's skin, and there was a furrow to his brow that Tony wished he could smooth. "I'm sorry that you haven't enjoyed it more."

"Aside from me learning that I don't like boxing, I don't think there's anything about my enjoyment of the tournament that requires an apology. And even me disliking boxing isn't something you should apologize for."

"It's not my fault, but I do regret that you haven't enjoyed it."

"I was fine until my brother in law was the one getting hit," Tony muttered.

"I've seen Bucky take worse than that."

"That is only slightly comforting."

"Sorry," Yasha said. "It's almost over."

Tony nodded. “Will you tell me another story?” 

Yasha didn’t react. 

“About twins? Or maybe just your favorite? I could use a distraction, if you’re willing.” 

Yasha was quiet for another moment, then started talking. This one started with two girls walking on the beach where they found a dragon egg, and it was a relief for Tony to have something else that he could focus on. 

He enjoyed the stories that Yasha told him, but it was still a comfort when the boxing portion of the tournament came to an end. 

Servants brought new refreshments while the area was prepared for wrestling. He finally got himself feeling something like normal by the time the first contestants came out, and then all that work was gone. He'd let go of Yasha so that both of them could eat, and he now found himself wishing that he'd kept his hand exactly where it was. 

Like watching an object get washed away in a flood, his good mood left him. Steve was a participant. Of course he wrestled. Why would he not? He and Yasha used to do quite a few things together, and Yasha had admitted that this was a sport he played. He thought of Steve and Yasha wrestling together and wanted to break something.

"Are... you all right?" Yasha asked, pausing where he'd been in telling a story about a demi-god fighting some sort of sea creature.

Tony didn't want to snap at Yasha, so he grit his teeth together and tried to calm down before answering.

Yasha had already seen Steve of course, but then he put two and two together and let his fingers tangle in Tony's.

His heart quickened, and he tried to think if Yasha had initiated any touch between them before now.

"You have nothing to worry about," he reminded him quietly.

"Right." Tony cleared his throat. "You're right. I don't mean to be so..." Insecure. He meant insecure, but he didn't want to say that he was being insecure. Yasha knew it anyways, but that wasn't the point.

"I know I wasn't very helpful in making you believe there was nothing to worry about," Yasha murmured. "I ignored you for him. I'm sorry."

"No, it's- I mean, he's your friend. You hadn't seen him in years, it makes perfect sense that you wanted to spend time with him again. I don't think I can blame you for my jealousy anymore than you can blame me for yours."

Steve took off his robe, and Tony's hands clenched into fists. Rather, the hand that was in his lap clenched into a fist, and his other one pulled uncomfortably against Yasha's fingers. Of fucking course he looked perfect. Did the gods need a laugh at Tony's expense? Or was it that they liked Steve so much that they'd felt the need to bestow perfection upon him? Either way, Tony hated it. Yasha had said that there was nothing romantic between them and Tony believed him, but there had been attraction there. Yasha had, at some point, looked at Steve and wanted him. It was more difficult to believe that he was attracted to Tony now, when he could see how different they were.

"Although if I were to blame anyone for my being jealous, I think right now I would blame Steve himself," Tony said.

"You have nothing to worry about," Yasha told him.

"You keep saying that."

"That's because it's true."

Tony had been tangentially aware of the fact that the wrestlers were covered in oil before the match started, but he'd been putting all his mental energy into listening to Yasha's stories and trying to remember the details. The oil hadn't that much worse to him than the fact that they were naked until he saw Steve sliding it over himself. He blew out a short, annoyed breath. He knew that it wasn't sexual. If it was, Tony wouldn't be the only one uncomfortable right now. 

That being said, there was no denying how appealing Steve was. He was considered, by most of the population, to be the ideal man, even if Tony personally didn't feel the slightest bit of attraction to him. The only thing Steve was missing was the lack of blemishes from spending time in the sun, and hell, from this distance, they weren't visible. Tony only knew he had them because they'd been rather close to each other when they met. He almost wished that Steve had taken part in boxing because then he could've seen him get punched in the face, but with his luck, Steve would've made it out of the bout without a single hair out of place. 

"Let me guess," Tony said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice, "he's second only to you in wrestling."

"You're upset."

Yeah, no shit. "If it weren't for me, you would've been with him, right? I'm allowed to be jealous of everything he can do better than me, even if I believe that you no longer have any interest in him."

Yasha went silent, but not his usual silence. It was more like a scolded puppy silence that made Tony feel bad for snapping at him-- though Yasha didn't do the eyes of betrayal that dogs had always pulled on Tony when he denied them something-- usually food.

"I didn't mean it like that," Tony said guiltily. 

"Like what?" Yasha asked.

"Like I don't believe you, because I do. You said that it was one time and you don’t wish there was more, and I believe you. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

Silence from Yasha, and then the wrestling match started.

"It's difficult for me to think of you with anyone, even if I know it's all in the past. Do you understand that?" Tony asked hesitantly.

He still didn't reply. His eyes were on the match, but it didn't look like he was really paying attention to it.

"I knew my entire life that I was going to marry you, and if I tried to be with anyone else, it would've jeopardized the alliance,” Tony said. “I barely bothered to look at other people once I knew that. And then there's you and everyone that you've been with, and I don't have a clue what I'm doing and it- it makes me feel ridiculous. As you might imagine, I don't like feeling ridiculous."

"You're not ridiculous."

"Really," Tony said, a touch flatly.

"You're not," Yasha insisted.

"How would you be able to tell? By your own admission, you didn't try to get to know me before I showed up here."

"I can tell," was all he said.

"You say it with such confidence," Tony said, helplessly charmed. He didn't think that Yasha had even meant for it to be disarming, but it was.

Yasha glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Tony would've missed it if he was still looking at the match like he should've been. But what did he care to watch Steve win? He already knew that he'd win, and he didn't like the sport to begin with, so there was nothing to enjoy for him.

Tony smiled. How often had Yasha looked at him before now without him knowing? "There were a few things I wanted to talk to you about when we have the time."

"We have time now," he said.

"True, but this is hardly private, and it can wait until tonight."

"So long as it's nothing to do with my history of partners, we can talk about it now," he said, pitching his voice lower so that no one stood a chance of overhearing them.

Tony considered turning down that offer, but he didn’t think that putting it off would make him feel better. "I’m sure you'll think that I should've told you this sooner, but I can speak Vunitian." 

There was a slow blink, and then Yasha snickered. Really, he did. 

Tony could hardly believe it. He glanced at the wrestling in front of them just to make sure that something hadn't happened there to make him laugh instead of what Tony had said, but there was nothing.

"I think I should've expected that," Yasha said, sounding amused. There was still a small smile on his lips. Tony was pretty sure that was the first smile he'd garnered from his husband, and internally he cheered. "I can't remember what I've said in front of you."

"After our wedding, you told your brother that you didn't like me."

Yasha frowned.

"So you can see," Tony continued without waiting for a response to that, "why I occasionally find it hard to believe you when you say that you like me. I mean, I believe you now, but it wasn’t the best of beginnings for us."

"I didn't say that," Yasha said, still frowning as he thought. Presumably, he was wracking his brain, trying to remember exactly what he'd said.

"I heard you."

"Then you heard wrong," Yasha said, his tone back to its earlier sternness that had made Tony feel like he was married to a stone wall.

"I would believe that if I didn't remember it quite well."

"You thought I insulted you, and you still-" Yasha cut himself off, his jaw standing out for a moment as he grit his teeth together. He didn't need to finish his sentence for Tony to know what he was referring to. He'd started to pull away from the space in between them that they'd been sharing as he spoke.

"Are you always going to hold that against me?" Tony asked. "I was trying to do my duty as your husband. It's not my fault that you seem to think I shouldn't have."

Yasha said nothing, and Tony interpreted this as the kind of silence that meant he refused to reply, rather than needing the time to gather his thoughts. Tony could always give him the time to think anyways, but he decided against it this time.

"And again I say, you're the one that said you liked me after telling your brother that you didn't."

"I never said that."

"I heard you," Tony repeated.

"I don't know what you think you heard, but I never told Bucky that I didn't like you."

"Either our memories are at odds, or you're lying to me."

"It is the first."

"It would be in your best interest if it was the first, that's true," Tony said.

"Why are you always difficult," Yasha grumbled, his earlier smile gone without a single lingering trace.

"I'm not sure you've known me long enough to claim I am always difficult."

"Every time I think we're making progress, this happens."

"What happens? I ask you a question you're not comfortable asking?"

"You pull away. You lie and joke and bluster, and then you come back later and make me feel guilty for ignoring you."

Tony blinked at him, something heavy forming in his stomach. "That's not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?"

"To handle the situation to the best possible way for both of us. I get hurt, and I leave. I don't come back until I feel I can talk to you again." Tony's throat worked. He wished that talking about this was easier than it was. "I never mean to make you feel guilty for it because I don't blame you. We both have our sharp edges, and sometimes they get too close. I can assure you that when I pull away like that, I'm doing it because if I stayed, I would continue talking only to try and make you angry. I leave for my own sake, yes, but I'd like to think that it helps you as well." Tony took a breath in, then let it out slowly. In front of them, Steve won his bout, they clapped, and a new pair was brought out.

Then he started to ramble. Every word before this had been, if not carefully picked, then at least thought of before he said them. This was nothing like that, because if he thought about what he was going to say, then he wasn't going to say it at all, and he was tired of saying nothing to Yasha. 

Better to spit it out and embarrass himself than continue to test the waters and pull away time after time. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act with you. Whether I should prod you into more conversation or if I should leave you alone so I don't bother you. I'm constantly guessing, and I'm sure you've noticed that you don't have the most open expression. I do or say something, and then I wait to see how you respond, and I never know how you actually feel about it. It's taking a chance, and that makes me nervous. Just like saying all of this makes me nervous, actually. It feels like I keep ripping myself open, hoping that it will get us somewhere, and even when it works, I feel fragile afterwards and worried that you'll change your mind. When it doesn't work, like on our wedding night, it seems as though I've never made a worse decision in my life, and I never know which one it's going to be until after I've already finished. So if I make you feel guilty when I finally make my way back to try again, I am sorry for that, but I'm not sure what I can do to change it. Staying when I feel like my legs have been ripped out from under me isn't an option. At least, it's not an option I would ever pick for myself, and therefore I am unwilling to consider it as an option altogether."

There was a lack of continued tension in him, which Tony felt was a good reaction. "I don't mean to make you nervous," was what he said first, softly. Then, "I don't know how to be a husband."

"And you think I do?"

"I think you've tried your best to prepare for your life here, and I did nothing. The most effort I put in was getting you a necklace that you don't like."

"I don't know why you hate that necklace so much."

"Everyone told me to expect a typical Manhattian, and instead I got you."

Tony shrank in on himself a little.

"No," Yasha said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I... it would've... we'd be in worse shape than we are now if you were like that. I meant that they led me to think you'd be blond and prepared for court and nothing else. That a necklace was the only good thing I could get for you." Yasha sighed then, not looking like he was enjoying the wrestling very much despite the fact that it was supposed to be one of his favorite sports. "Not that I put any effort in anyways. I bought the first one that Bucky said looked nice and hoped it would be enough."

"I appreciated the thought," Tony said, because he had. "And it was nice to see what necklaces here looked like."

"Are they different in Manhatten?"

"Small differences, nothing to write home about," Tony said. He wasn’t sure if that was a saying here or not, but Yasha didn’t look confused by the phrase. He took a quick glance around them to make sure there was no servant waiting for them to pause. They were clear though, so he turned back to how he'd been. "It never occurred to me that you were as nervous about this as I am. It always seemed to me that you were sure of what you were doing."

"I wouldn't be half as sure if I were the one in another country," Yasha replied.

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment of how well I'm doing."

"It was meant as one."

Tony had been joking, so that brought him up short. On the one hand, he wished that they'd done this in private. On the other hand, he didn't think that they would've gotten this far if they had waited. When they were alone together, Tony felt even more nervous than when they had an audience, and even though he didn't much like putting words to it, he could admit to himself that part of that anxiety was from arousement. He wanted Yasha, and he knew that it wasn't going to happen. Knowing that it wouldn't happen any time soon (he still held out hope for their future together, because if he had no hope for the future, then he had nothing) didn't make it easy to ignore, however. All it really did was make him wish that he had his own bed so he could touch himself to get a few fantasies out of his head and make their time together a little easier. Tony felt like his mind kept drifting that direction unerringly-- when he wasn't busy being mad at his husband, that is. Not that that surprised him. His mind skimmed by sexually interested like it was a footnote in a favored book, and circled back around to being surprised that Yasha was just as nervous as he was about their marriage. "What was it about our marriage that made you nervous? Or was it me, specifically, that made you nervous?"

"You. Mostly. You're so much smarter than me. Everything you've done... I knew I couldn't compare."

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, then swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to say. What should he say? Yasha felt like he couldn’t compare to Tony? It was so far from how he thought of their relationship that it was ludicrous. "I wish I knew what to say to that,” he said eventually, because he’d come up blank and didn’t want to leave Yasha hanging, hoping for a response that never came. “We've made so much progress in the last five minutes, but I don't know what to say to keep us going. You-" Tony let out a small, disbelieving laugh. "You think that you can't compare to me. As if I'm the one worth something here."

"You are."

"I'm the Prince that my parents couldn't wait to get rid of. Everyone told me not to try so hard, that you'd have to accept me no matter what, but I wanted for you to want me. I wanted to be so good that you would've chosen me if you had the option."

"I would have," Yasha said softly.

Tony turned to look at him, only to find that Yasha was already staring at him. There was a familiar depth there, like he was feeling things he couldn't put to words. Before, Tony had always let him look his fill. He still had no intention of asking him to stop, but he did ask, "What are you thinking about?"

"You," Yasha breathed.

Tony felt short of breath suddenly, and it got worse-- better?-- when Yasha tangled their fingers together again and turned back to the sand.

Chapter Text

Tony kept staring at Yasha over dinner that night, and he didn't even try to be subtle about it. That is, he didn't bother to hide it from Yasha himself, but he did keep it a little hidden from other people. He didn't want them prying, but he did want Yasha to know that he was thinking about him. That being said, he wasn't sure he much cared if everyone thought he was obsessed with his new husband. 

They were still in the midst of their wedding celebration, which wasn't similar to a honeymoon in structure, but he thought that it held the same place socially. And he was definitely allowed to be over the top in love during his honeymoon, so that probably held true for their wedding celebration.

"You've been staring at my brother all night," Bucky said, sounding amused. His face didn't look as bruised as Tony had thought it would after the boxing during the day.

"I'm allowed to be happy."

"And your happiness hinges on staring at him?"

"It doesn't hurt," Tony said with a small smile. "I think we're finally on the same page. That makes it easy to be happy."

"Good for you," Bucky said, toasting him with his cup. He wasn't drinking as much tonight as he had the night of his brother's wedding, but Tony found himself wondering why he'd want to be intoxicated. It could help people relax, but he doubted that Bucky needed help in that area.

Tony, personally, had no taste for it. The idea of not being in control was terrifying to him, so why would he make it more difficult than it already was? He could stand to relax, yes, but he had the feeling that if he got drunk, relaxation would be the last thing on his mind. "Why do you drink so much?" he asked, since he figured that Bucky wouldn't get mad at him for it and he was interested in knowing his reasoning.

"Why don't you?" Bucky responded with an easy-going grin.

"It dulls my mind," he said.

"Huh. Well, as someone whose mind is already dull, you can see why it doesn't bother me." He gestured vaguely at the room with his cup. "It makes it easier to have fun."

"You don't look like someone who needs help having fun."

Bucky shrugged then. "Before you showed up, Yasha used to drink just as much. It certainly helped him have fun."

"So you're saying that if I want for him to relax, I should encourage him to get drunk?"

"Actually, what I'm saying is that Yasha doesn't need help having fun now that you're around. Me? Eh, I still need some encouragement."

See, when Bucky said things like that, it made Tony think that he didn't know how little had actually happened between him and Yasha. The brothers were close, weren't they? They'd both admitted that the other was their closest friend. He didn't understand why the state of Yasha's marriage would be one of the only secrets between them. He was curious about it, but not curious enough to ask Bucky here and now. Besides, if he really wanted to know why, he could ask Yasha. They'd been getting along all day, and maybe he shouldn't treat a single day as the new normal, but he thought that both him and his husband liked it this way. Tony knew that he had no desire for it to change into something they'd already tried in the past few days, and he was fairly confident that Yasha felt the same.

Tony didn't bother to reply to Bucky, mostly because Bucky finished off his drink and winked at Tony before starting on another. If Yasha was acting different than he had before Tony showed up, he wondered how long it would last. And if he was acting different, was it truly because of Tony? He felt he had done very little to enact such a change in his husband, but with the way Yasha had talked about him, it could very well be true.

"What are you thinking about?" Yasha asked, and Tony had to fight not to shudder. Yasha had said it close to Tony's ear, his voice low and deep. His breath fanned over Tony’s skin, sending his thoughts to places that were inappropriate in a public setting. 

"If I said you, would you think I was lying?"

"Perhaps," Yasha replied as he leaned back into his own space. His voice was even, not betraying if he thought one way or the other. "What about me?"

Tony imagined saying, "If you would reconsider what we talked about the other night, where you said that you wouldn't touch me for years." He couldn't very well say that in the middle of a crowded room. This wasn't like at the tournament, where they could count on people's eyes being elsewhere. People had their conversations, but if they sensed that there was an interesting conversation taking place between the newly married couple, their focus would shift as easily as the wind changing direction. With that in mind, Tony said, "Nothing that we could talk about in public."

Yasha paused, eyes darting over to Tony quickly, them away again, almost guiltily.

Tony gave him a small smile. He didn't know what was going on in Yasha's head, and he wasn't sure he could guess. He knew what he wanted it to be, and that meant any guess he could make would be biased. 

Tonight... maybe tonight they could talk about it again. Tony wanted him, and he felt like Yasha wanted him the same way. And if they both wanted each other, and they were finally in synch with each other, then there was no reason they couldn't do it. Besides, most of Tony's nerves from the first night they tried to be together were gone. He knew Yasha better, now. Knowing that there was nothing expected from him made it that much easier to want it. To know that he could kiss Yasha and feasibly leave it at that, made him dream all the more about what it would be like to kiss him again and keep going.

Keeping up appearances now that he wasn't stressed, was pretty easy. For that matter, did it count as keeping up appearances when it's what was true? It was no longer pretending that him and Yasha were getting along, it's that they were getting along. They hadn't had enough time in private to talk about everything they needed to, but they'd have considerably more free time after the wedding celebration came to an end. After they sorted everything between the two of them, Tony would have time to deal with all the other concerns. Like why Yasha's parents didn't like him, and why Yasha didn't trust Obadiah at all. He'd have time for all that later. Tonight, he was going to worry about their relationship, and nothing else.

Even after he decided that, he tried not to dwell on it for the rest of the meal. They were in public, and he wouldn't be able to say anything to Yasha about it until they left. He spent most of his time trying not to blush so hard, which wasn't an easy feat when Yasha kept skimming his hand against Tony at unexpected moments. It was never anything that could be considered inappropriate, but given how firmly Yasha had kept his hands to himself before today, it made Tony feel like it was something illicit.

It took ages for them to get back to their room, and Tony felt like he'd been teased all night. He wasn't sure that was what Yasha had been trying to do, but that's how it felt on his end. It meant that when they got back, the door safely locked behind them, Tony didn't think twice before fisting his hands in the front of Yasha's shirt and keeping close to him.

"What?" Yasha asked lowly.

"You know what," Tony said, breathing heavily with a combination of nerves and anticipation. They were better, more excited nerves than they'd been the night of their wedding.

"If I'm wrong..."

"Does it look like you're wrong? I want this. I want you. No outside motives this time," Tony said, forcing his fingers to loosen from their death grip. He smoothed his hands over Yasha's shirt where he'd wrinkled it, not bothering to hide the way he could feel his chest through the material. "Just us."

"We agreed to wait," Yasha said, but it sounded like he was waiting for Tony to convince him that they shouldn't.

"If you want to wait, you shouldn't be looking at me like that."

Yasha's eyes didn't move from his, and they didn't lose any of their intensity. He leaned down to kiss Tony, and no matter how good their first kiss had been this was even better. He kissed Tony like he was precious, yes, but this time it was because he'd already seen him and still wanted him. He pulled Tony closer so their bodies were pressed together and held him tight like he wanted him even closer.

Tony knew that his hands were wandering all over Yasha's body, and maybe it made him seem unfocused, but he'd tried not to be too bold last time. This time, he didn't hold back, knowing that Yasha wanted him and Tony touching him wouldn't scare him off. He wanted Yasha, and Yasha wanted him. It was what he'd wanted pretty much as soon as he'd seen him, and he backed up, heading for the bed.

"Where are you going?" Yasha breathed, his eyes on Tony's lips.

"The bed," Tony said with a laugh. It was obvious that's where he was going, but Yasha was so wrapped up in him that he hadn't been able to think of it. "You can show me everything I've been missing out on."

"I can't fit everything in one night," he said, following when Tony tugged on his hand to urge him to follow.

"Good thing we've got the rest of our lives then, isn't it?"

Yasha paused the short journey over to the bed to kiss him again, his hands going to Tony's ass and pulling him against his body again. "It’s not a good thing; it's the best thing," he agreed a moment later. 

Tony woke the next morning feeling sore. Sore in a good way, like when he trained. Though admittedly, he'd never been sore quite like this before. The muscles used for sex weren't the same as the muscles he used for, say, sword fighting.

It was strange, to say the least. He hadn't thought about this aspect of sex. For all his inexperience and the things he didn't know, he'd had a certain idea of what sex would be like. What it would feel like. He'd been right, for the most part, but he hadn't expected this lethargy from his body. Silly as it may sound, the only thing his body wanted to do was stay in bed and have sex again. Why it would sign up for more sex when it clearly hadn't adapated well to it the first time, he didn't know. All he knew was that his mind was onboard with that plan, even if it wasn't going to happen.

The tournament was over, but the wedding celebration was not. They had duties to attend to, and staying in bed all day with each other wouldn't fit into the schedule. Still, he could dream.

He stretched his legs out, then relaxed again, curling up anew against Yasha. It's how he'd slept all night-- curled up against him. He planned on falling asleep like that again, but then Yasha squirmed. "Tell me you're not getting up already," Tony groaned.

"With the way you were wiggling, I thought you would agree to it," Yasha replied, his voice rough from sleep.

It was tough for Tony to hear his voice like that and think of anything but how he'd sounded like night. He'd been inside Tony, and his voice had been rough and quiet and he'd sounded almost as desperate as Tony had felt. It made his heart beat quicker just to think about. "I'd rather stay here with you. For as long as we can."

"It's not a half-bad idea," Yasha agreed. He raised an arm so he could skim his hand across Tony's back. His touch left goosebumps. "But how long could we stay before someone interrupted us?"

"Indulge me," Tony said, then yawned.

"I have a different idea," Yasha said slowly. "For how to spend our morning."

"I doubt it's better than my idea, but I'm listening."

"We could go riding. I haven't been on Summer yet, and I would like to. With you. If you're willing." His words were back to halting where they hadn't been last night, but he was trying. They'd had sex, and Yasha could've easily pulled back into himself. But he hadn't. He was still trying to talk with Tony, trying to tell him what he was thinking so that Tony could understand him.

So even though Tony would rather lay here in bed for a few hours this morning, he'd like to go on that ride. He'd like to do what Yasha wanted and felt comfortable talking to him about. He wasn't quite sure what love was. His parents didn't love each other. He thought maybe his brother loved his partner, but he spent most of his time ignoring his family so he wasn't sure. He thought that he'd get it with Yasha, but that wasn't without work. Getting his butt out of bed to do something he liked, that they could do together, would hardly be a sacrifice. Besides, he'd get to see Yasha with Summer, and that was an image he'd like. "I'm willing," Tony said, then yawned again. "If I can wake up."

"I could help you wake up," Yasha said, slightly more awake now. His voice was still rough and low, but this time in the way that it had been last night instead of from sleep.

"I'd have to be dead to not want to take you up on that," Tony replied, already feeling more awake. He tilted his head up for a kiss and hummed happily when it was given a second later.