"Military cooperation?" Carlos sat on the sofa, head propped on his palm, his cheeks compressed from pressure. Unlike yesterday's grand uniform, a loose 'simple' red jacket hung on his shoulder.
His aide Benjamin stood nearby, viewing the exchange in silence.
Carlos looked at Celyn sitting across from him. Yet he was deep in thought about what this kid had said. His refusal was firm and swift. "No."
But more than anger, it was disgust. His nose wrinkled. Clear disbelief was written on his face. "How did you even think I would agree with that?"
Celyn didn't think so. He had never thought of making the emperor agree to a military contract or cooperation. He tilted his head slightly, leaning forward. "Then you have to at least make me believe you won't harm Luxuria."
Celyn lifted the pen placed in front of him. "Last night I stayed up and read something about Inferos marriage laws..."
A smile spread across his lips as he began to write on the white page. He glanced up for a moment making eye contact with the emperor. He wanted full attention. "Do you know what I discovered?"
His blue eyes weren't smiling; instead they were covered with a faint, transparent layer.
"It's political suicide....." Celyn's hand paused, a large drop of ink spilled from the pen. Staining the white paper blue. "In Inferos, a marriage means becoming someone's property."
To make matters worse he would be a man unable to bear heirs and a political hostage, marrying a man who was supposed to be his...
Why should he bear that for nothing?
Benjamin turned his face to the side. As an aide he was like a shadow. But he didn't want to see the crown prince break.
Carlos frowned, he knew it. He knew all of that. A married woman was considered a property in Inferos. Not an equal. Yet...
"A peace treaty for the next 10 years. And a rail network on Luxurian land, leased not sold, by Inferos funds."
Celyn spoke fast not giving the emperor or Benjamin any time to recover from their thoughts. He closed the pen, sliding the paper across the table. A polite smile hung on his lips. Not one shred of earlier gloom.
Pure determination.
The emperor picked up the paper, except for the ink spill. It was written neatly. Just two conditions written one after another. For someone from Luxuria the kid really had a good grasp on spoken and written Inferic.
His gaze softened.
"Why ten years?"
It was the expiry date, he had determined for this marriage. But Celyn didn't say that out loud. Celyn looked to the side. He was lying through his teeth. "A peace treaty longer or shorter than that would look unserious."
Carlos blinked, after his adoptive father passed away in a horse riding 'accident'. He rose to the throne at the age of 18. Much to the dismay of his ministers and council, he had reigned for a decade. Carlos smiled, he knew how to tell truths and lies apart.
It wasn't as long or as short of a time the prince had hoped for. Not that Carlos had any plans of breaking the marriage. This marriage was his 'gift' to the ministers and nobles. Gifts were not meant to be returned or broken.
"Bring a seal, Benjamin." Carlos turned to his aide. Benjamin quickly nodded. But the deal wasn't done yet.
Carlos turned his head watching as his aide closed the door behind him.
The light left his red eyes. Carlos picked up the pen in front of Celyn. Opened the cap and started writing. "Have you watched a play before?"
Celyn stared at the paper. From his position nothing except a few scribbles was visible. But what Emperor had started musing about also didn't make sense. "Yes, I have."
Carlos paused writing, his eyes widened. He looked up at Celyn's face. This wasn't a lie
"That's.... that's surprising." He couldn't help but comment. Watching a play somehow didn't suit the kid. Something like board games, reading books, debating suited him better. Carlos clicked his tongue before continuing to write.
But Celyn didn't understand what surprised the emperor. Plays, music, they were a common tool to keep the army motivated. Before he could overthink Carlos put the pen down.
"In a play everyone plays a role. It's already decided." The paper was once again slid on the table. Carlos leaned back on the sofa. To Celyn this was a negotiation. To him it was a place he could just wish and it should be fulfilled.
And he wished to play the writer. "I am the deviant....you are the victim." Carlos pointed to himself and then to Celyn. He didn't define where the stage was going to be. It was the whole continent.
If marrying a man and putting himself in a feminized role was political suicide. Then acting as if he loved a man....how was this any different? Trying to make sense of a tyrant's behaviour? Maybe this was his mistake. Celyn picked up the paper, the third condition visible to him. His hand shook, tightening around thin paper.
This....
Celyn took the pen and signed it with his name. Defined letters, each curve deliberate. The nib broke at the end.
Ink spilled but before it could damage the paper Carlos lifted it up. Celyn looked at the pen. No one should have to use it to sign something next time. He threw the pen on the table his hands stained blue.
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