anyway. Let’s go find our seats.”
Warrehn gave him a skeptical look and opened his mouth, but at that moment, another voice interrupted whatever he was going to say.
“Eridan!”
Relieved, Eridan turned and smiled, this time more genuinely. It was impossible not to like Prince Harht, or Harry, as he had asked Eridan to call him. Harry was the nicest, kindest person he’d ever met. The fast friendship between them felt real despite Harry living on another planet and visiting Calluvia only sporadically.
“I’m so glad to see you!” Harry said, giving him a quick telepathic hug, his smile wide and pleased. His violet eyes were the same shade as Eridan’s, but it wasn’t all that surprising: they were distantly related, as many Calluvian royal families were.
“And I, you,” Eridan said, smiling at Harry’s enthusiasm. He sometimes wondered if he would have been like Harry had he been raised by his own parents. He and Harry both were the youngest princes of their respective grand clans, both had overprotective older brothers. They were close in age, and they looked a little alike except for Eridan’s lighter hair. Eridan often felt like Harry was the person he could have been but would never be. Harry liked people for real. Harry was extroverted, nice, and happy; Eridan… tried to be those things.
Belatedly, Harry bowed to Warrehn. “Your Majesty,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I apologize, my manners have slipped since I started living on another planet.”
“I don’t mind,” Warrehn said, his perpetual scowl softening slightly as he looked at Harry.
Eridan would have totally played the matchmaker if he didn’t know Harry was absolutely in love with his Terran. Warrehn needed someone like Harry in his life, someone who would soften his hard edges and make him smile more. Someone nice and uncomplicated.
“The ceremony will start soon,” Warrehn said. “Let’s find our seats.”
They followed Warrehn’s tall form, with Harry chattering excitedly about the wedding. Eridan tried to listen, he really did, but the closer to their seats they got, the closer to the ceremonial fire they were. Per tradition, royal families sat at the front.
Eridan’s skin prickled with terrible awareness, his pulse quickening. Desperately, he searched for something to say, to distract himself. As they took their seats, he fixed his gaze on Prince Ksar waiting by the fire with his mother, the Queen.
“I don’t understand why both grooms can’t just be there,” Eridan said. “Why one of them has to be given away? Isn’t it a marriage of equals?” He really was a little confused by the tradition. While he had been taught royal customs, some of them didn’t quite make sense to him.
“Not really,” Warrehn replied. “They both might be princes, but Ksar has a higher social rank. He’s the future King of the Second Grand Clan. Prince Seyn is the younger prince of the Third Grand Clan, and he will assume the position of a prince-consort when he marries Ksar. That’s why he’s the one being given away—he’s literally being given to a more influential family. If Prince Seyn were marrying you, he would be the one waiting at the fire and I would be walking you down the aisle and giving you away.”
It was the longest Eridan had ever heard Warrehn talk, and he would have been pleased if his mind hadn’t fixated on the idea of marrying someone.
As a member of the Order, it had never been an option for him, but now… It absolutely was, wasn’t it? Eridan couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The mere idea seemed… alien. Preposterous.
The sound of an orchestra tore him from his musings. Belatedly, Eridan followed Warrehn’s and Harry’s lead and stood up, too. He craned his neck, trying to see better, but there were too many people, and Warrehn’s bulk limited his view.
He was able to see the other groom only when Prince Seyn and his older brother walked past them.
“Oh,” he breathed in admiration. It was true what people said of Prince Seyn and Prince Jamil: Eridan thought they really were the most gorgeous men on Calluvia. Dressed in the Third Royal House’s blue and white colors, they looked rather alike but for Prince Jamil’s dark hair and taller form, and they both were difficult to look away from. They both were smiling, a reserved but warm smile on Prince Jamil’s face and a wider smile on Prince Seyn’s.
The latter looked radiant, happiness rolling off him in tangible waves as he took Prince Ksar’s hand.
“I’ve never seen my brother so happy,”