DAY ONE OF SPIDERBIT THEME WEEK STARTED BY @anonymous-dentist! :D
SELECTED THEME: ROYALS
part of my existing spiderbit royals au, which you can find here :)
All things considered, this gala is actually tolerable.
It's not that Roier hates galas - he likes dressing up, gossiping with townsfolk, participating in a few dances. It's the politics he doesn't like: classist courtiers, uptight generals, all the talk of pacts and trades and treaties, this and that-
Too many negatives and not enough positives.
But this? This is his first gala with Cellbit as his personal guard. As his partner.
There was another gala, months before. Back when Cellbit was still practically a stranger to him, one of the knights who patrolled the parameters of the massive ballroom and down the halls to ensure nothing went awry. Back when suitors were coming up to him left and right, looking to flirt and dance and win his hand alongside his heart. Roier would humor them, but they would never win. Even if it made his parents increasingly exasperated with him.
There will be none of that this time around, though, at least he certainly hopes. This time, things are different. So much different.
In what has to be a first, there's no armor on Cellbit to be found. Instead, the silver metal has been replaced with black and white and deep emerald fabrics; a high-collared shirt and a long coat. The guard's sword is in its sheath attached to his waist, though, veiled from immediate sight by a black cape, and he expects nothing less.
In no uncertain terms, Roier has trouble looking away. But it's fine, because Cellbit keeps looking at him, too, with unadulterated adoration, smiling with such a warm fondness that it makes him melt all over, and he wonders how the hell he went for so long without it.
(There's a lot of other eyes on them at first, too. It makes Cellbit stiff in his vigilance, his face open to the world and not just his world. But Roier's hand barely leaves his.)
(They really do stand out; dark greens and reds contrary to the bright yellow-golds and vivid violets of the prince's parents. A match that could rival, indeed.)
The gala enters its full swing and everything is, well, normal. Tolerable. The prince makes his rounds with the townsfolk, getting his favorite clue into the local drama. Chisme.
The guard accompanies him, too, but occasionally walks off to strike conversation with his own companions, or do his own silent checks around the borders of the ballroom. The latter doesn’t go unnoticed by Roier.
“Ya, mi amor,” he chastises fondly when Cellbit returns once. “Nothing to worry about.”
The band starts playing a tune that makes Roier perk up immediately, and before Cellbit can dispel the recognizable glint in his eye, the guard is being pulled deeper into the ballroom, Roier’s hand sliding into his own as the prince’s free settles on his shoulder.
Cellbit huffs, but he’s anything but upset, especially with the way Roier’s face lights up with a laugh, pressing closer still.
(And he remembers why dancing isn’t so bad, after all. If it means this.)
(They’re getting married. Married.)
The song ends with Roier getting twirled out with a laugh and a flourish. Then, it’s clear he gets another idea, tugging Cellbit’s hand lightly. “Sigueme, sigueme.”
They’re slipping out of the ballroom and down a hall, going up the stairs. Their final destination is revealed when the prince pushes open one of the double doors and they’re hit with a cool summer breeze.
“They’re going to notice we’re gone.” Cellbit quirks a brow.
“And? I saw the look on my father’s face. I am not listening to another general if I can help it.”
The guard hums, smiling amusedly. “Brilliant solution.”
“I’m full of them, no?” Roier responds.
“Sometimes.” The quip is met with a gasp and a smack to Cellbit’s shoulder. Roier pulls back in faux hurt, hand to his heart and everything, but then Cellbit’s hands are on his waist and he’s pulled right back. The prince pouts. “Hijo de puta.”
Cellbit only smiles knowingly, and Roier feels positively fuzzy. Their lips connect, and he’s flush against his love once more, arms circling snugly around the guard’s neck.
(A fire burns. All it took was patience.)
(He’s never letting go, now.)
When they finally pull apart, Roier rests his head against Cellbit’s shoulder, and they hold each other tighter still.
They can’t hear the music from the ballroom anymore, but it doesn’t matter. The night is their guide, as it always has been, and all is well.
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