A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 40

Griffith was sure that everyone in attendance could hear him rattling from their seats. It had been decided ahead of time that since he had no living relatives, he would take the traditional position of the groom while Guts would be walked down to the parliament floor by Cadogan. That suited him fine. Guts had an effortlessness to his masculinity that Griffith sometimes envied. While he enjoyed the ethereal quality his androgyny afforded his looks, he always wished to be seen as a man. If he was the one who was given away on the parliament floor, it was possible some in attendance might make assumptions about him or the nature of his and Guts’s relationship that would be distasteful to him. Guts, with his hulking frame and quiet intensity would not be subject to the same rumors. His mother had never married, robbing Cadogan of the chance to walk his daughter down the aisle, so it would make sense if her son finally allowed him to fulfill that role. The arrangement did leave Griffith practically vibrating in place in front of all of these people of course.

It wasn’t nerves. Though, perhaps he should be nervous given that the royal families of both Midland and Tudor were present, both with more than ample reason to want him dead. Given that the king of midland looked like a hollowed out husk of himself and the queen of Tudor was on her third attempt at explaining to the king how a state marriage worked, he was not particularly worried about either of them. No, the reason for his tremors was pure excitement. He now had his two greatest desires right within his grasp. Today, Guts would finally become his and his alone and Griffith would be crowned as his prince consort. Although he had come to like the man, Cadogan was old. Griffith estimated he had maybe five years before he retired from the position of king. At this point all he had to do was wait a few years, spend some time gaining favor and bolstering his legitimacy and he would sit on the throne.

He had always thought his desires were mutually exclusive, it was his kingdom or Guts, he could not have them both, but he had been wrong. Instead, it was impossible for him to have one without having the other. In fact if that horrific vision he had seen during the eclipse was to be believed, if Griffith had abandoned Guts for the sake of his dream, it would have resulted in nothing but misery. Griffith hadn’t seen how that story would have ended, but in his heart he knew it would have been with Guts’s sword parting his head from his neck. His fate was always in Guts’s hands, even now at the dawn of his triumph, but he had come to accept that. Even if fate was unkind to Guts, even if the very universe seemed to be his enemy, everything still bent around him. His will could subvert fate, saving Griffith from the miserable one he would have inflicted on himself and everyone around him. He had always trusted Guts, but through his recent period of introspection, he had come to realize that he trusted him more than he trusted himself. Even at his most controlling he had trusted Guts to do what he thought was appropriate, and now he was beginning to realize his own judgment could be questionable on occasion. Griffith was still confident in his ability to rule, but he had come to realize that it would be best if he was given assistance. He understood power and manipulation, the ways to encourage cowardice and betrayal in his enemies, the myriad of ways that human beings react to their fear of someone obviously superior, but he did not understand the messier emotions outside of that. Respect and loyalty that did not stem from fear and exercise of power, admiration born of mutual respect, there was only one man who had ever compelled such feelings from him, and he would trust that man to show him how it was done. Guts’s love had transformed him into something he could find beautiful, it had granted the deepest desire of his heart, and finally it had held a mirror to his soul and asked him gently to be a better man. For him Griffith would try to become a man that didn’t cause Guts pain, a man that gave instead of endlessly taking. He owed him that much at least.

Guts adjusted his sleeves. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable wearing garments that came down to his wrist. When he was nervous his skin tended to itch, and having fabric covering it tended to aggravate that.

“Nervous?” The king asked, his saffron colored clothes contrasting with Guts’s black. “You don’t need to go through with this if you don’t want to.” He placed the silver circlet studded with blue amber Guts had commissioned for Griffith in his hands. The Prince’s hand tightened around the metal ring.

“I do want to, I’m just worried. Nothing has gone wrong yet.”

“Well, the problem there is that you are focusing on a ‘yet’ that may never come. Don’t you think you might be owed a break? That just this once the universe may allow you happiness without strings attached?” The king placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Guts did not flinch at the sudden contact.

“Maybe you’re right.” He pinched the center of his nose trying to relieve the pressure headache he felt coming on.

“Even if I’m not, it does you no good to worry. What will come will come and it is beyond us to do anything about it now. You will only rob yourself of the joy of a present where nothing is going wrong by worrying about a possible future where something does.” Guts took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his jaw. Cadogan was right, it was out of his hands now. He linked arms with his grandfather.

“Well we better hurry then, gramps. The future certainly won’t wait.” Cadogan felt his heart warm just a little bit.

Griffith endeavored to stop his shaking before Guts reached him but it was proving incredibly difficult. He looked absolutely beautiful. For his own comfort, Guts had commissioned clothing tailored closer to formal military garb than standard wedding attire, wearing dark linen pants and a silk jacket. On top of that he wore a black wool cape, still held closed by the nicked iron pin he wore as raid captain, the winged sword polished as much as it could be after its years of battle. He wore the same circlet he had been given during his coronation, the red and gold amber being the only colors he wore. The darkness hid the details of his body, making him appear even more imposing than usual, while the small amounts of color at his brow drew the observer’s eye to his face, his harsh, well defined features making him appear carved from stone, while his dark, intense eyes reminded everyone that he was very much alive. Griffith noticed a few of those in attendance very quickly straighten their postures as Guts nervously glanced in their directions. It was almost funny really, that they couldn’t see he was far more nervous than he made them. He stood next to Griffith with his ears burning as Cadogan took his place in front of them.

This was the part Guts had dreaded the most, publicly declaring his affection in front of all of these people. He was no longer ashamed, but fuck was he embarrassed. It was one thing to say that he loved Griffith, it was another entirely to attempt to say it in a somewhat poetic way in front of a crowd of people with infinitely more experience writing poetry and rhetoric. He took a deep breath.

“Griffith, the very first day we met I swore to be your sword, because I believed then that a sword was all I could ever hope to be. Now as I stand before you today, I once again swear to be your sword, but I also swear to be the stars that guide you, the flame you warm yourself beside, the home you can always run to and the first hand that will reach for yours.”

“Griffith, will you accept this gift?” The king turned to him.

“Yes.”

“And what do you offer in turn?”

“Guts, I wish to repay the gift you gave me all those years ago, so I offer myself. My hands are yours to move, my trust is yours to hold, and I am yours to know, if you will have me.”

“Guts, do you accept this gift?” He stared at Griffith in shock. Guts didn’t think anyone else besides some of the members of the band would know just how much Griffith was offering him. Griffith, who was always so self possessed, who insisted on determining his own fate, was offering himself.

“Guts.” Griffith whispered, taking his hand. He looked him in the eyes, his expression soft and Guts knew he really wanted it.

“Yes.”

“Then do you both agree to be each other's lover and closest companion for as long as you both draw breath?”

They looked at each other, both recognizing the one man who could understand them, a fellow creature of flesh and steel. Guts spoke first.

“I do.” Griffith threw his arms around Guts’s neck.

“I do.” Guts smiled as he kissed him, placing the silver circlet on top of his head.

Charlotte watched her stepmother through the ceremony. She remained still and silent the whole time, still with that snake’s grin playing at the corners of her mouth. On the way to the reception her step mother focused on moving the king along, it was only once they had arrived and she had deposited Charlotte’s father at their table that she took Griffith aside as he made the rounds speaking to guests. Charlotte watched as she whispered something to him and his face seemed to crystalize, freezing into a grin to prevent showing the true emotion he was feeling, but even from here Charlotte could see his pupils had narrowed into slits. A few minutes later, after they had both spoken to enough other guests to alleviate any suspicion, the two of them excused themselves. Of course Charlotte followed, hiding herself behind a pillar just before the pair stopped to speak.

“So, what is it you want?” Griffith turned to face the queen. He did not bother to mask the hatred in his voice and it shook Charlotte to her core.

“So the mask comes off the second you leave the sight of your husband.” The Queen of Midland sneered. “I wonder if he would still offer you shelter if he knew what I know?”

“Out with it will you? I have no patience for games.” He undid the clasp of his cape letting it fall to the floor.

“Strange,” the queen thought, “for what reason does he wear a second cape?”

“I know you are connected to the assassination of Lord Julius and his son.”

“Oh really? What evidence do you have to support such an accusation?” He slowly removed his gloves as he spoke. The queen had heard he had been injured but she had not known he had needed replacement limbs. It was strange though, he moved even better than a man in armor.

“I have evidence that he attempted to kill you during the yearly hunt. You obviously assassinated him and his son for revenge.”

“That sounds awfully circumstantial, don’t you think?” He kicked off his boots. How absolutely uncouth! Did he intend to strip in front of her? In her disgust she failed to register the click of claws on stone.

“Will that matter if your husband and father and law are told you ordered the death of a child?” Griffith sighed as he began to unbutton his shirt. Still more of his body was metal beneath his collar with a clean line dividing metal and skin at the base of his neck.

“For the record the child was an unfortunate casualty of revenge, only Julius was supposed to die.” His cape shuddered without being touched as he stalked towards her and she saw that it was connected to the back of his shoulders. Those weren’t red threads that wove through it, she backed up as she realized those were pulsing veins. “Though I wonder, did it ever cross your mind that I wouldn’t have killed him myself? That perhaps I may have asked my most trusted officer to carry it out instead?” The queen’s back hit the wall. Griffith unsheathed his claws. “I do hope you enjoyed the wedding.” He thrust his claws into her stomach and tore.

Charlotte yelped from her hiding place. Griffith looked up and yanked his hand from the queen’s body. She sputtered as he did, still just barely clinging to life. He rounded the pillar claws poised to strike before seeing Charlotte.

“Ah, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

“You killed her.” She whispered.

“Not yet. She still has about five minutes left. I could go and get Puck and she’d be right as rain. No, you’re killing her Charlotte.”

“What?!”

“Come now, your father is practically at death’s door already, who do you think is the greatest obstacle to your rule?” The queen coughed blood onto the ground. “All you need to do is nod, it will be our secret.” She had no fondness for her stepmother, she was a cruel and manipulative woman, but she did not deserve to die like this. However Charlotte did not think she would live if she answered no.

“What do you plan to do with the body?” Griffith smiled.

“I’m still considering staging.”

A crash rang out and the two of them looked up.

“You probably ought to stay here.” Griffith quickly threw his unbloodied clothes back on and tore away to investigate the noise. Charlotte knelt down next to her step mother and held her hand.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as the light left the queen’s eyes.