Chapter Text
Zen wasn't used to heat like this.
Despite the fact that his shirt was partially unbuttoned and his waistcoat was tossed to one side on the plush red seat, it was still far too warm.
The humidity was stifling and his forehead slick with sweat as he leaned against the window that cracked open. He was desperate for any sliver of cool breeze that passed him by while the carriage made its way at a steady, constant pace. The curtains were closed on every other window and he wished that they were a little heavier so they could properly smoother out the sun's rays.
More carriages rattled behind him filled to the brim with the finest things that Clarines could offer for this marriage. Jewels, silks, gold, paintings but what Her Majesty wanted most was the Phostyrias. And of course his brother provided.
He was smothered by guards surrounding him with gazes set ahead of them.
It was his fourth day of travel and his stomach was still in knots, only growing worse as they got closer to the palace. The heart of Solothage. He should have been more prepared for this. He should have expected this. He knew Izana had this…this marriage in the works for a while. Zen just didn't know when it was going to happen.
A knock on the window dragged him away from delving deeper into his thoughts. Akio, the knight suggested by Mitsuhide, appeared before him.
Mitsuhide had rigorously trained Akio to be Zen’s new aide. Showing him all the ropes for what this job would entail. Preparing him for when the worst would sneak up from the shadows. Mitsuhide went through everything, ensuring that all bases were covered before leaving Zen's safety to him.
Mitsuhide couldn't come after all. With the name of Seiran as his own now he was finally happy and at ease by staying at Kiki’s side as her husband and to protect the Seiran household.
Zen just couldn't ask him to leave. Not after everything that happened.
Akio was bubbly and enthusiastic, a grin always sprawled on his mouth and messy brown hair always bobbing with his movements.
Zen tiredly pushed open the window to hear his voice.
“Your Highness, we have almost reached the Palace,” he informed, “We are currently passing through the city.”
“Ah, great. Let me know when we have passed the gates.”
"Yes, Your Highness."
With a nod, the window was closed and Zen's attention focused outside once more.
It had gotten louder, a song of bustle weaving through the streets.
Slightly, he pushed the curtain to the side, eyes following the new scenery that began to unfold into a sprawling city that grew and stretched as far as the eye could see. Buildings were in the soft, warm hue of sandstone while roofs were tiled in a mosaic of colors; blues and reds and greens.
It was so alive and full of people. Vendors shouted deals to passerbys, coaxing customers with the promise of deals while spices and food wafted on the wind close to making Zens mouth water with hunger.
Bunting strung from shop to shop in soft lilacs, bright yellows and warm pinks while carts rolled to and from stacked with food and jewelry and other materials. Music thrummed on the paths, rumbling in his chest and he felt a little breathless, a little excited.
Some people stopped mid-walk, waving and smiling as his carriage passed. Others spoke in hushed whispers, eyes catching his, concerned.
He moved away from the window, biting the bottom of his lip while worry rose in his stomach once more as the endless rows of houses and shops whittled down.
His eyes soon found themselves on a large set of gates that thundered open slowly to allow their carriage to pass through the threshold and into the courtyard of the palace.
The palace was bigger. Far bigger than Wistal.
Zen swallowed down the lump in his throat, lurching forward as the carriage came to an abrupt stop.
Another knock and Akio’s face was before the window.
“We have arrived, Your Highness,” Akio announced.
“Right.” He willed his voice to stop trembling. “Of course. Perfect.”
Akio carefully opened the door while Zen swiftly put his waistcoat back on and attempted to fix his hair into something presentable.
His legs were like water as he carefully stepped off the carriage, eyes wide and staring at the palace before him. His new…home.
With a deep, shaking breath and trembling hands he made his way up the marble steps.
Zen was like an ant in the middle of the foyer.
Everything was enormous and loomed over him like a judgemental cosmic being. Silent and watching. The carved pillars with lions' frozen mid pounce stretched skyward to the glass domed ceiling where birds flew in the endless blue expanse.
Vases of flowers lined perfectly against the walls and small, careful mosaic tiles lined the edges of the floor shimmering with the sun’s rays.
Servants fluttered over and back from the carriages, carefully unloading all the gifts offered by the kingdom of Clarines. Zen’s luggage was slowly gathering as a pile in the foyer and all he could do was stand like a statue. Limbs heavy and eyes wide as his mind attempted to catch up with where he was, where he stood.
He was here floundering, unsure of what to do and words falling short in his mouth.
“Highness?”
Zen snapped out of his daze, his attention soon focusing on Akio. “Yes?”
His brown brows furrowed ever so slightly with concern at his state before he continued slowly, feet shuffling nervously on the floor. “There is someone who wishes to talk to you.”
“Really?” He blinked once, twice. Was it her Majesty already? “Bring them to me.”
Akio gave a brief bow. “Of course.”
He was swallowed by the flurry of the crowd in an instant, lost amongst the swift movements and language he still didn’t understand.
Zen stood, hands flexing and heart in his throat as he waited.
Was he even prepared to greet her? Gods of course he wasn’t. He was a tired, sweaty mess who hadn’t had proper sleep in days. What should he say? How should he present himself?
His thoughts were cut short when Akio slowly came back into view, a person following behind him.
“Your Highness!”
A woman stood before him. Not Her Majesty to Zen’s knowledge. Her stance was perfectly straight, hands clasped and golden bracelets shone against the deep brown of her skin. Her braids hung in a low ponytail, grey streaking against the ink black of her hair. A blue sash trimmed with silver thread wrapped around the waist of her plain white dress, the skirts hissing to a stop along the marble floor.
“I will be your translator, your highness, Zen Wisteria,” she greeted, with a brief bow. It was different. Fist to her chest, head dipped and one knee grazing the floor before she stood to her full height. “My name is Dayo.” Ah, she spoke Clarinese too.
Zen smoothed down his trousers before his hands remained stiff at his sides. “O-Oh. I wasn’t informed…”
“Her Majesty, Abeni, assigned me to you,” she explained, “I will also be in charge of helping you learn Solothagian.”
“I see.” He had learned some Solothagian after much pestering from his brother. Zen understood some basic words and phrases but holding an actual conversation was…a different case. “I will be in your care.”
Dayo gave a mild hum, a slight frown curling on her lips. “For now we shall get you clothes that will be better suited for you here,” she says, ushering him down a hall.
“P…pardon?” He struggled to keep up with her suddenly fast pace. “What about my meeting with, ah, her majesty?
“That is not scheduled till later this evening.”
“Oh.” It echoed in his ears. “I wasn’t…ah… aware of that.”
Gods, he really should have paid more attention to the schedule. He should have paid attention to a lot of things. His cheeks grew warm with embarrassment as he swiftly followed Dayo down the halls with Akio trailing behind.
“No need to worry,” she assured, “I shall explain everything you need to know.”
“Right, um, thank you.” He was breathless, still grasping for something stable to get him used to this place. “Is there anything that needs to be done before I meet her Majesty or…”
“No. All your luggage shall be taken and sorted in your room,” she said, “The gifts sent by your kingdom will be presented to her Majesty tomorrow.”
“I see.”
“For now, it's simply a matter of acquainting yourself with everything.”
“Of course.” His palms grew with sweat and his throat felt tight. “I look forward to living here.”
It felt like Zen could breathe again, his clothes light and flowing and free.
A whole wardrobe of clothes was made and done just for him in an array of colours that he struggled to take his eyes off. Each one as detailed and as carefully crafted as the last.
Dayo had swiftly picked an outfit out for him while attendants had assisted him in how to wear it correctly. A long agbada and sokotos made from atiku fabric in a deep blue and trimmed with shimmering gold thread in miniscule geometric designs of triangles and circles. It made his shoulders broad and he couldn’t help but grin slightly at the fact.
The halls were spacious and light trickled through the stained glass windows in soft oranges, greens and reds. His shoes echoed on the polished marble floor while the sweet scents of lilies and hibiscuses wafted from their multicoloured vases.
People came to a stop when he passed, offering bows. Others whispered, suspicion caught in their tones. Zen smiled nonetheless, attempting to appear as welcoming and as warm as he could.
“We are here,” Dayo announced.
The large double doors of dark mahogany stood over him, his legs trembling at the sight.
Upon their arrival, the guards were already pushing open the doors, bowing as Zen, Dayo and Akio passed through.
Zen sucked in a breath, heart beating wildly against his ribs.
He’d never seen a throne room quite like this. So full of nature and greenery. A pond sat in the centre of the room, the scales of the fish gleaming while the surface ripped and shone with the movement. Elegant flower beds lined the very edges of the room with indoor aqueducts carefully constructed to ensure they would live. They burst so brightly with colour; leopard orchids, agapanthus, crinums and the smell was so earthy and sweet.
The pillars were carved with intricate flowers and leaves that Zen was almost tempted to touch them to see if they would move. They stretched towards the domed ceiling of stained glass, soft beams of yellow and orange lighting the throne below, just behind the pond. The banners of Solothage hung from the ceiling on either side of her throne. An alabaster gate with lions mid leap either end and a small river coursing through it before it came to settle at an inlet. Sorghums took place at the banks, caught mid breeze. It was all so carefully crafted in gold, black and white against the deep red backgrounds.
“Well, well.”
The voice that spoke was deep and soft, an amused lilt mixed beneath. She spoke in Clariense, though it wasn’t the slow, drawn out way of speaking. No, she was fast and clipped, mixing the way in which Solothagian should be spoken with Clariense words.
Zen glanced up, soft blue eyes meeting dark brown.
His breath stuttered in his mouth, unable to break such an unwavering gaze.
Her dark, coiled hair sat perfectly in a bun, a golden veil with embroidered flowers keeping it in place before it trailed down her back, shimmering in the sun. Her lapis earrings swayed when she moved while golden necklaces sat around her neck, a matching pair of stacked cuff bracelets shone against the deep brown of her skin. Her dress was a soft orange with careful, light threaded designs of diamonds and curling foliage. Her Majesty, Abeni.
Her eyes narrowed and Zen shrunk unconsciously, eyes finding the flowers more interesting. She gave a noncommittal hum.
“Zen Wisteria.”
“Yes!” His voice went up an octave and his cheeks heated as he swiftly cleared his throat. “Ah…yes.”
“It is a pleasure to have you here.” She moved as if she walked on air, her steps so silent that the only indication of her being grounded was the hiss of her skirts against the floor. “Your brother has informed me much about you.”
“Ah…all good things I do hope.”
Her face was unreadable. “Indeed.”
Zen squirmed, hands twirling and lips a thin line.
“Well,” she went on, “I do hope you'll find everything here to be satisfactory. I will send you attendants to help with whatever you need.”
“Many thanks.”
She gave a small, brief smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Dayo, if you will, do introduce him to the husbands and wives tomorrow as well.”
"Of course, Your Majesty.”
Akio let out an abrupt, choking cough while all Zen could simply do was stare, mouth opening and closing like a desperate fish in an attempt to say something cohesive.
“I–I…” His words floundered out of his mouth. “Pardon? What do you mean by the husbands and wives?”
Her lips curled into a simple grin, eyes dark and gleaming. “You are not the only spouse I have, Zen Wisteria.”