codenamecesare: Continued from this. Erik paced...

Monday, February 20, 2012

Continued from this.

Erik paced the ring, waiting. He and Charles had met as boys, had even been friendly. But when training for the Engagement began in earnest, Erik’s taskmaster forbade any contact with the Xaviers. Erik remembered Charles as a cheerful, stubborn ten-year-old who, even then, had inherited the Xavier propensity for talk over action. There was no doubt in Erik’s mind that he would win this Engagement.

Finally it was time. Erik found himself all but sleepwalking through the opening ceremonies, hearing nothing but the voices of his people, roaring him to triumph, til the noise died and the competitors walked out in solemnity to meet.

Charles looked ridiculous, Erik told himself firmly as they approached each other. He wore a tiny, silly crown pinned off-center to his hair, and a long cape fastened with a blue bow, its length trimmed not with leather and fur, but with puffy fleece. Lace adorned his gloves. His scepter had wings. And he was flagrantly, almost comically lovely, practically a parody of what a consort ought to look like. Even in his boots he had to be half a foot shorter than Erik, and slight of frame; his skin looked smooth and soft, his face sweet and open, with clear blue eyes and a tantalizing red mouth.

Erik was certainly bound to win. He’d always coveted victory for its own sake, but almost as much as statescraft, here was a prize worth taking. He shook Charles’s hand, smirking.

Charles smiled in return. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, leaning near as the arbiter intoned a brief address to the crowd. “I happen to think this contest is a bit ridiculous. Once this is over, I won’t expect you to come live with me as my consort unless you want to be with me.”

“Once you lose,” said Erik, “I expect you in my rooms by tonight. I hope you’ve already packed.”

Raising an eyebrow, Charles answered, “Very well. May the better man win.”