Love In The Name of Power

Victor Novikov is a well accomplished Elf Wizard frequently credited as the founder of modern magic. He, while confident in his abilities, avoids the presence of others. Shy would be the wrong word, as it implies he somehow fears others. The man can shoot lightning from his hands, he fears no one. His hermiting is merely the product of exhaustion and hatred. Everyone with their stupid brains trying to catch up while he's miles ahead. Patience is a virtue, but waiting for the council to get a clue is agony.

One week ago, the Emperor died on the throne of a combination of old age and sickness. With no heirs or known relatives, the Empire was left in shambles. All the king's informants banded together to form a council to run the country and lay down guidelines to prevent this brand of fiasco from ever happening again. A new Monarch is to be elected as the leader of the council. The new sovereign's power is to be severely limited until a clear line of royal succession is established.

The council leader would earn half the power of the Emperor and gain the title of King upon marriage, still sharing power with the council. Only after the birth of the first heir to the throne can the King take his rightful place as Emperor.

Knighted wizard sir Victor, the King's reluctant wizard of the court, finds himself elected the new leader of the council. He was on the council and had his hand in politics for the purpose of keeping his work funded. A hotshot wizard is an odd choice for future King, the go-to should have been the highest ranking military officer. The council insists he did more to conquer the enemy and expand the Empire than any general could ever dream of. As much as they hate to admit it, the complete and utter domination of the continent is all thanks to the past thirty years of Victor's magical advancements. With Victor's puppet armour the Empire of Steel was able to whittle the continent of 10 countries down to 5

Victor enjoys this recognition of his talents, allowing a boost to his Ego for just long enough to foolishly accept the position of council leader. Why did he do that? He hates the council. It was him who referred to the council as "the idiot bench". And now he has to deal with these incompetent morons for more than just funding. When the council informs him he has to run everything by the council until he's married, he just about rage quits.

He hates people, he hates dealing with them, to have to deal with one person and treat them nice enough for him to be liked back is ridiculous and a waste of his time. He has work to do! Magic to discover! He doesn't have time to go on dates and make small talk with some whiney, opinionated hag. He turns his nose up at marriage as a social construct. It's primitive and stupid.

There are three things he hates more than the idea of marrying another person. The first is dressing up fancy, which he will surely have to do on a regular basis as King. The second is the council. The third is raisins. Fuck raisins.

Marriage is definitely the lesser of two Evils. One person is much easier to manage than the entire council. But how to marry without having to fall in love?

Surely a man with nations on their knees would be a coveted husband- That's it. A marriage deal. No expectation of love. In theory a marriage deal with another country would have enough political gains to save it from being a complete waste of time. So, Victor sends a scribe to write up a series of letters. One to every country on the continent.

"The new King of the Empire is looking to marry. Deals are open, reproductive compatibility is a must, Royal status is preferable. No other standards present. Name your price."

A week later the responses roll in. The 3 nations that are about to be toppled by the empire all respond with some variant of "The price is leaving us and our people alone".

And then there's Dune. Dune is a small desert oasis miles away from any other civilization. They're geographically impossible to conquer by virtue of being a desolate wasteland only the natives can seem to withstand. For the past decade the people of Dune have been trying to make their way to the big boy country table. They jumped at the opportunity to marry into the largest empire known to man. They drive a hard bargain "My son Prince Lazu has been looking to marry for a while now. If you can give us a better trade deal than the caravans we would love you forever. We would love to invite you to discuss the details and are honored by your consideration."

On one hand, that sounds expensive. On the other hand, Victor really wants to conquer all the nations he's currently occupying. Pay lots of money on a regular basis and destroy the entire merchant trade, or simply not conquer one (1) smaller nation. Yup, Victor would rather go broke than end his conquest for a silly bride. Fuck it. Dune wins.

"Write back to Dune for me. Tell them we'll be arriving at the Capitol to negotiate a trade deal in a weeks time"

"Sir, you do realize that the people of Dune are..."

"That they're what? Overgrown cat people?"

"Uhm, well, you- they're offering you a Prince, not a Princess."

"Yes, I heard you the first time. What of it?"

"Sir, I don't know how well this will go over with the people of the Empire. How will this bring you heirs?"

"The Empire can grow up. There's scattered records of them breeding with humans. Compatibility is the same for Elves and Humans. I trust they know what fits where to make a baby. It's not dragon summoning."

"But would you really taint the Royal bloodline with not only a man but an entirely foriegn species?" The scribe asks with caution.

"Scribe, come to the window and gaze upon the land to which I grow my fucks." Victor walks to the large pointed arch of a stained glass window and motions for the scribe to join him.

"Yes sir."

"Tell me scribe to you think anything grows here on these snow capped mountains?"

"No sir"

"Good. You're on the same page." Victor snaps his fingers and suddenly the scribe is on the other side of the glass clinging to the raised part of the panes in an attempt not to fall off the small ledge of the mountainside. "If you want to freeze to death trying to find any number of fucks for me to give about your silly concepts of pedigree and gender, go ahead. It is BARREN and you shall not be missed." Victor hits his fist against the window sending the scribe tumbling backwards down the mountain.

"Are there any other objections to a deal with Dune?" Victor asks glaring daggers at the silent council. Not a single person moves or makes a sound.

"That's what I thought. " He pulls his cloak behind him and begins to waltz out of the room. "Oh and send for another scribe will you?"

Victors heels echo in the underground hallway. He should really put up some tapestries when he becomes king. The sound is obnoxious. You'd think a massive castle inside of a mountain would have carpets to mute this but it doesn't. The floors are all a toothed white and yellow marble because the floors pool with water when the mountain ice melts in spring.

"Prepare a cart, we're making a trip to Dune." He informs his personal staff.

Victor sets out first thing in the morning in his sleek all black metal carriage. This one in particular is mostly rectangular, and runs on magic rather than the unreliable means of horses. It's very simple really. A levitation enchantment to make it move and simple transmutation to open and close the door. It's well insulated and protected from the cold weather of the Empires mountains.

The black metal box does a fine job on most turf. There's just one teensy tiny detail this great wizard overlooked; The desert is HOT.

Sure, Victor knows the desert is hot, he made small modifications to the carriage to accommodate this. What came to surprise Victor was exactly how hot this glorified sandbox actually is. Hot in the Capitol city is one thing. But Dune? Oh boy. To the people of Dune the fires of hell would make a nice wine cooler.

As such on the second day of travel Victor and his men reached the sands and within hours found themselves overdressed, even in the clothes chosen specifically for the desert heat. Victor told the team to "dress for summer" as he packed nothing but black wool pants and silk shirts. Turns out, Vampires are not killed by sunlight. Their goth aesthetic bakes them alive with help from the harsh rays of the sun.

This trip has been quite educational for Novikov. His Cantines ran out of water on day 6 out of 7. His efforts to learn the language of Dune on the way were successful, but not to the extraordinary degree they would've been had his blood not been boiling in his skull. By day 7 Victor was drenched in sweat, laying at the bottom of the black box fanning himself with his language book, his shirt fully unbuttoned. This is the lightest outfit Victor owns.

He steps out of the box on arrival and immediately is burned by the sun on his ceremonial metal headband. Sweat trickles off of his hair in front of him. His white shirt leaves little to the imagination. The people of Dune rush to his aide.

"Oh dear, please come sit, you look ill." a kind catlike young farmer chirps in a soft yet gravelly tone.

Victor must have learned something because he understood that. "Yes, thank you... water? "

Commoners who have no clue who he is rush the 'emperor to be' into the shade out of concern. It's only minutes later that the royal guard of Dune escorts the mixed party of elves and humans to their intended destination.

A solid hour is spent rehydrating and fanning the men. Not exactly a great first impression. The cold fainting slabs are lavish and adorned with gold. The servants left to care for Victor and his crew are all beautiful Marsu, dressed in beads and plain white linens that droop down at the neck. (The Marsu being the native race of marsupial catfolk.) It's the royal treatment no doubt. The servants laugh rather than bat an eye at the slurred and incoherent compliments of the dehydrated travelers.

The sandstone palace is colored brightly in a pallet of orange, gold, and blue. Not so easy on the eyes but gorgeous nonetheless. In Victors current state it's a little nauseating. He pulls himself together and stands before the king in his elevated wicker throne and the queen standing by his side. "Good morning" Victor bows, flicking sweat from his hair at Dunes royalty in the process.

The king wipes the sweat from his face, trying to hide his disgust. "Indeed, is it not a little early to be drunk?"

"Drunk?" Victor asks.

"Sol help us all" the king mumbles twirling his mane "Of course you're dehydrated. You've never been to a place of sand have you?"

"What gave you that impression?"

"You crossed the desert in wool pants." The king sighs "Someone get this fool some linens"

"What? Noooo these pants aren't made of wool" Victor slurs out in his loopy dehydrated state, "they're made of... uhm... pants."

"Idiot" one of the servants coughs from the sideline. A fellow servant elbows them in response.

"Right. Well, if we're done making fun of the future sovereign of the Empire, I do believe we have some business." The queen speaks up.

The King's ears flick up and his eyes get stars. It seems he needed a reminder that this dehydrated idiot is the great wizard who conquered over half the continent. "Oh, I didn't realize. You must be the great Sir Victor. Please take a seat on the cushion up front"

Victor smiles at the compliments "Yes, that's me. Let's talk business." He flips down on the cushion. "You want a better payout for your goods than the merchants are giving you?"

"Yes."

"Can I have a look at the current prices?"

A servant passes Victor a scroll. This is more lucrative than he could've dreamed. All the luxury goods such as silk, gold and spices that the merchants wouldn't disclose the source of are made right here in Dune. The merchants had a pretty good plan. Go to the place no one else will, buy the goods for next to nothing and sell them for up to eight times more than they bought it for. Victor knows from his time as a commoner that every item on the list goes for much much higher in the Empire.

By connecting Dune to the imperial supply line and offering to pay three times as much as the merchants were for the goods he could obliterate competing economies. After all, who would buy a bolt of silk in town for 80 when one days travel to the Empire can get you the same bolt for half the price.

Victor grins "I'll triple what they're paying and connect you to the imperial supply line. In exchange for your son's hand in marriage" He hands the scroll back "that is assuming reproductive compatibility is present. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

The Marsu choke in awe. This is a much better offer than they were expecting to get. The King stands and extends his hand "By Sol it's a deal. Welcome to the family."

Victor takes the hand and is pulled into a crushing hug, much to the concern of Victor's men. Victor is not fond of this interaction but continues to play along in the name of diplomacy. "I'm quite excited to meet the prince."

"I'm afraid you can't do that yet." The King let's go and Victor returns to his seat.

"And why not? Are you setting me up with an incompatible match?"

"No, no, if you don't believe me someone on your crew can check under supervision of the royal guard." The king sighs "The goddess Sol does not bless pairs which see each other before the wedding ritual."

"Ah" Victor grits his teeth. Superstition is nothing but bullshit as far as he is concerned. He'll play along for now but truly he does not give a flying fuck about their deity. "How exactly do you expect me to court your son if I can't see him?"

"How about you ask him. He's been trying to find a work around for that all day" The Queen laughs.

"Damnit, I told him to stop with that."

"Oh relax, he's excited, I'm sure you were the same way during our arrangement."

"I was more nervous than anything. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't paired off to some elderly foreigner. It's nice to know he's actually onboard with this though. "

Lazu makes his way down the stairs and sees one of Victor's men standing sipping on a cantine. He gasps "He's here?!" He runs to find out only to be stopped by his mother with a spear "Is he cute- oof." He asks, trying and failing to dodge it.

"I'd rather describe myself as handsome" Victor calls out from out of sight where he sits.

Lazu gasps "Oh you're really here HI!"

"You go back to your room! You know how this goes!"

"Are you as pale as the man to the left of father or is he albino? I've never seen an elf before" Lazu calls as he steps back up the stairs continuing to be out of view.

"Yes that's pretty standard among Elves from higher altitudes."

"Cool- Alright Alright I'll go back up the stairs" the sounds of footsteps going up is amusing. But not nearly as amusing as the sound of them going back down the stairs to ask another question "Is it true you're 40 years old? Does that make you elderly?"

"I'm pretty young for my race if it's of any comfort to you!"

"Lazu!" His mother chases him up the stairs again.

"Love you!" Lazu yells from the top of the stairs.

Victor laughs and the king pinches the bridge of his nose. "Cubs, I tell you."

Lazu seems rather young and naive by comparison to Victor. 'Does he really think this marriage is out of love?' Victor wonders. But then again what does he care? If Dune wants to set their prince up for heartbreak, that's not his problem. The man serves his purpose and Victor makes no plans to get attached.

The wedding day arrives. Victor has mused the requests of Dunes royal family as much as the council will allow. Victor sees this day as insignificant beyond its political value so he's more than willing to let the foreign culture call the shots.

Both parties enter from the side instead of down the aisle? Cool. Whatever. No vows? No problem. Consummation? Well it makes Victor a little nervous as he's never done 'it' before. Ultimately consummation flows right in with his plan to have an heir as soon as possible, so everything is just gravy.

The ceremony is long and boring. There is a solid half hour before Victor has to do anything but stand and look interested. So much standing. Such a large audience. Surely full of scribes hoping to find some kind of scandal to sell to the tabloids.

All the speaking is done out of physical reach of his bride. He can see him adorned with Golden flowers, fine white silks trailing behind him. The veil is specially weaved to be transparent but only from the inside. The prince can see a dark and blurry image of Victor but Victor can see nothing of the prince.

Victor feels under dressed by comparison. Truly he's glad the most cumbersome clothing item is this extended cape. He could really do without the corset and frills. He snaps out of his thoughts after hearing it's time to step forward.

He pulls back the veil and stares for a moment in awe. He's gorgeous. His fur patterns frame his face just right and his eyes look up to Victor as if he were a God. It takes a delayed reaction from Lazu for Victor to realize he still has a job to do. As Lazu tries to hide his face in his hands, Victor catches him by the wrist.

" It'd be a shame to hide such a pretty face." Victor smiles, rubbing his thumbs on the palms of the princes hands. Lazu takes a step forward in response. He gently pulls the man closer and gives him a kiss. Lazu kisses back with such enthusiasm it makes Victors heart soft and something else much harder.

Victor pulls away from the kiss after a few seconds. Meanwhile Lazu keeps trying to gently tug him back for more. It would be socially acceptable to indulge him but Victor refuses. This is strictly business and anything beyond that is politeness for the sake of diplomacy.

Victor tells himself he will not get attached to his new spouse. His stubborn refusal is coated in fear. He cannot let his emotions get the better of him. It would sacrifice everything he's worked to achieve. He can feel himself falling in love and that is truly terrifying for a man who's public identity hinges on a lack of sentimentality.

The audience applauds their kiss, snapping both of them out of their little daze. Victor enjoys having an audience for his greater achievements but in this context it's awkward. Lazu's ears flick down in embarrassment. The Audience is not his people so the crowd makes him uncomfortable. The prince's grip on Victor's hands tightens.

" What's the matter?" Victor whispers.

" They're all staring at me. Did I do something wrong? " Lazu replies. His voice sounds soft yet coarse. Like fine grain sandpaper.

" No. Even if you did it's nothing to worry about. You are the highest of all the nobility in this room and royalty on top of that." Victor coos. He tugs the man down the aisle and continues, " their opinions don't matter as they are nothing compared to you."

Lazu doesn't know whether to be flattered or concerned. He doesn't know much about Novikov but the way others talk about him leaves Lazu confused. It's a high level of respect that borders on terror. Lazu speaks in imperial "do you not value the opinions of the governed?"

"The gap in understanding between the people and myself is so large... their input is to put it bluntly, worthless. There's nothing of value to be added by a person who doesn't understand the subject." Victor struggles to find a way to express his disdain which paints him in good light. It's far too early to disregard Lazu's opinions. Once the man's parents and staff return to Dune, Victor can safely demand of the prince, whatever he wants. Regardless of Lazu's feelings on the matter.

"What if you're wrong?"