Chapter Text
The Dark Prince stood stiffly, arms crossed deliberately behind his back, eyeing the Maw Walker’s proffered card with open skepticism.
It was pink. Like the arch behind him and all the decorations the "Mad" Duke had commissioned. Inked across the garish surface was Renathal's name in handwriting he recognised, though with many more elaborate flourishes and an excessive number of surrounding hearts.
“You’re starting to hurt my feelings,” said the Maw Walker, when he continued to refuse her lurid offering.
She arranged her face into an uncharacteristic pout. Renathal was not remotely fooled.
“What is this?” he asked.
”It's a love letter, of course!" Renathal was sure her voice was pitched purposefully to carry through the courtyard. “A visible token of my eternal affection. They’re traditional at this particular festival. I'm sure Theotar explained.”
As though summoned by the Maw Walker’s over-loud words, the Duke materialized at Renathal’s side.
“A love letter? For the Prince? What an astonishing and appropriately lovely gesture! I must admit, my dear friend,” he said, taking the Maw Walker’s free hand and patting it conspiratorially. “We were becoming most concerned your passion for our Prince was mere rumour! You must admit - and it is not critique, but, alas - your demeanour can be somewhat unnecessarily cool at times. Why, the way you practically quit the Ember Court last week when he bestowed the most exquisite of affections…”
The Duke indulged in a reminiscent laugh, shared by the Ember Court guests who’d been drawn toward his shaded tea corner by the ringing conversation. Renathal’s own lips twitched, but he refused to wholly drop his guard.
It was true. The Maw Walker’s reserve had become almost infamous in Sinfall now their relationship was a public fixture. Even the most temperate of kisses in front of witnesses left her flushed and wrong-footed; and in his exploitation of his normally unflappable lover's unexpected weakness, Renathal was unrepentant.
The incident Theotar referenced involved Renathal wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing his lips fervently to the tip of her long ear, leaving her breathless and violet-faced in front of the Grandmaster and the rest of the visiting Maldraxxi contingent. It had left the Maw Walker disgruntled for the rest of the day.
“It was decidedly inappropriate," she had snapped at Renathal later.
“Oh, come now," he cajoled. "Surely, you cannot consider any part of my affection inappropriate?”
“When you use it to your own advantage for the express purpose of embarrassing me, I most certainly can.”
Renathal had made the requisite apology in order to restore their relationship's equilibrium, but he knew she considered it inadequate, and he had anticipated rebuttal. Which was why when he at last stretched out a wary hand to accept her unusually public gesture, it was with all the same trepidation as if she had handed him some unknown weapon from the Broker's cache.
“Well?" she prompted, her lavender face entirely too innocent. “Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Yes!" agreed Theotar, practically trembling in anticipation. "You must read it aloud for all to hear! We are proverbially dying to know the secret depths of the Maw Walker's passion for our Prince. And you do declaim with such panache!"
Murmurs of excited agreement rippled through the now sizeable congregation of Venthyr and visiting Bastion guests. Renathal glanced dubiously from the Maw Walker's glittering eyes to the folded pink paper, then opened it cautiously, half-expecting it to explode. A quick skim of its lengthy contents, and he thought his face might be less heated if it had.
"Oh, my Prince, you must not keep us in suspense!" cried Theotar, attempting to peer at the paper over Renathal's arm. "What has she written? Is it an essay? A poem?"
“Not ... exactly,” said Renathal, his mouth abruptly dry.
He had no idea what to call the document in front of him. Some portions read like poetry - of the most incendiary and licentious kind - but mostly it resembled a step-by-step instructional guide to the Maw Walker's intimate after-court plans. And a more gratuitously explicit list, Renathal had never seen risked to paper. There were descriptions that would make the Countess blush, and several suggested acts he thought might have condemned more than one soul to the crypts.
“Well, go on," said the Maw Walker. "Read it out loud."
Renathal's eyebrows could go no higher as he met her mirth-filled gaze.
"You want me to read this out loud? In front of the entire Ember Court?"
The Maw Walker shrugged.
"Why not?" she asked, voice drenched in sarcasm. "Surely you don't consider any part of my affection inappropriate or embarrassing?"
Renathal's lips twisted convulsively as he perused her manifesto a second time. There were words on this pink paper he had never said aloud, words whose meanings he didn't even know. The idea of his friends and followers - the stately Accuser, the modest Polemarch - envisioning him and his lover engaged in .... was that one even anatomically possible?
He looked back at the Maw Walker's expectant face. It was a bluff. But one even Renathal could not bring himself to call.
“I am afraid,” he said, pointedly closing the card and addressing the eager crowd. “I must respect my champion’s privacy. There do exist some sentiments best expressed between lovers alone.”
The Maw Walker smiled - a genuine smile, free of mischief - and Renathal reached instinctively for her hand. Then paused. His eyes asked permission, her nod bestowed it and the sedate kiss he pressed to the back of her fingers elicited only the faintest blush.
With the promise of a spectacle dashed, the crowd began to ebb, murmuring disappointments. Even Theotar‘s hair looked sadly wilted as he sighed and turned to his tea tray for consolation.
“However,” Renathal murmured, stepping to the Maw Walker’s side and reopening her libidinous treatise. “I do consider it your contractual obligation to perform every exquisite service detailed herein.”
“Oh, I plan to make good,” was her impenitent reply.
“Really?” The Dark Prince’s eyes glowed hot at the tantalising prospect. “And what does -“
He checked the paper.
“-slonking mean exactly?”
The Maw Walker winked.
“I’ll show you later.”