(Quick A/N: I am writing a little ahead and realised to my horror after posting the first bit that I had merrily switched into present tense for the rest of what I'd written...which was a lot more. So, uh, bear with me there, and I'll fix that when it's done.)
The duke’s closest advisors consist of Lady Nile (who seems to be what Yusuf would term his wazir, but doubtless they call it something else here), Captain Andromache, who apparently captains his guard – this is a little unusual in a woman, but she does not look like to take questions about it – the chatelaine of the palace (that word Yusuf does know), called Quỳnh, and a man called Sébastien who is apparently the mayor of the city.
“Nile,” says the duke. “Please explain how it is I come to have a husband I knew nothing about.”
“A fiancé, technically, your grace,” says Lady Nile. “But as you know, a betrothal of this sort is nearly as hard to get out of as a marriage.”
“I would like to know how you came to know nothing about it, too,” Yusuf says. “I didn’t come here to be foisted on anybody.” If he treats it as a negotiation, nobody will notice that he has nothing to bargain with and desperately wants to hide. He cannot imagine his aunt and uncle sending him knowingly into this situation.
“This is what happens when you sign things your brother gives you without reading them,” Andromache says pointedly.
“It was in Arabic!”
“Only the first page,” Yusuf points out, at the same time as Nile-the-advisor does. They share a rueful look; he likes her immediately, for the small piece of shared ground.
“I see,” the duke says, looking at the copy Nile has given him. “I…see.”
“I know this was just after your mother’s death,” Nile says. “It was a difficult time.”
“That isn’t an excuse on my part.” His voice is clipped.
“Look,” Yusuf says. “If I am that displeasing to you, surely you can just divorce me.” He feels bad saying it because his family does very much want this arrangement; he should argue their part; but he can hardly sit here and demand to be married to a man who has said flatly he doesn’t want a husband.
Everybody looks at him as though he has said something highly ignorant, or baffling. He flushes. “Can you not?”
“They’re not going to grant a divorce, or more accurately an annulment, without cause,” says the duke. “Would it be that easy, in your country?”
“Yes,” says Yusuf.
The duke rubs his forehead. “Could you all – I would like to speak with Signor…” He has to glance down at the document. “Yusuf. Alone. Quỳnh, could you see about arranging rooms?”
“Of course,” murmurs the chatelaine; she exchanges a glance Yusuf can’t read with Andromache the guardswoman. The mayor seems grateful to escape. Nile hesitates, but leaves with the others.
He doesn’t even remember Yusuf’s name. This is absolutely fantastic. Just the marriage Yusuf always dreamed of.
“I want you to know,” the duke says from behind his desk, “this really isn’t…I’m sure you’re…” He trails off.
“Please,” Yusuf says, feeling very tired, “don’t bother. Your grace.”
“Would it be a hardship,” the duke asks, quietly, “for you to return?”
Yusuf does him the courtesy of thinking this over. He is irrationally annoyed by how attractive the duke seems, in this moment, looking at him with concern. Yusuf had told himself strictly not to expect anything. He had not been expecting the duke’s elegant figure, or his sea-green eyes, or the line of his neck; Yusuf isn’t sure whether he wants to lick it or paint it. And the only question he has for Yusuf is whether it would be a hardship for him to return unmarried whence he had come. It is incredibly unfair.
“Not in any of the ways you probably mean,” he says. “A little humiliation never killed anybody.”
For some reason, this causes the duke to flush. “I see.” He coughs. “Ah. Lady Quỳnh will show you to your rooms, and…I will consult with the bishop, but I expect…you may be here some time before matters can be…arranged.”
“Then I shall attempt to treat it as a stay for pleasure,” Yusuf says, “and not anything else.” He gets up and leaves. It’s probably rude. He is really past caring.
Of course, the minute he leaves the room, he realises that he has no idea where anything is in this large but seemingly quite empty palace, nor where he might be supposed to go. It is tempting to try and return to the ship, which will still be in port, but – he knows enough of these things to know that if he goes, the betrothal will certainly stand. Yusuf would quite like to marry someone, one day. For a number of reasons. So here, he supposes, he will stay.
“Oh, good,” says someone; he turns to see Nile. “I hope the duke didn’t – he’s one of the kindest people I know, normally, but this is very…very stressful.”
“I’m sure it is,” Yusuf agrees. She winces.
“Listen. I need – we need to have a discussion, about how this has come about. Will you walk with me? I know Quỳnh is still arranging your rooms.”
She takes him out into a courtyard that centers on a fountain full of beautiful statuary – life-like beasts and humans, such as you would not see in the palaces of Yusuf’s home, not that he has spent any time in them. It is very different, but he can appreciate the craft all the same.
“I imagine you’re wondering,” she says, “what on earth is going on here.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Well.” She folds her arms. “I suppose it started with – the thing you need to know is – I’m sorry, this is complicated. How much do you know about the royal family here?”
“Almost nothing,” Yusuf says, “except that I was being betrothed to the youngest son, who is a duke, because my family wanted trade access and his wanted funds. I could have sought to know more. I didn’t.” He is aware, now, that having agreed, he was worried he would find out something that would make it seem like a bad idea. Perhaps that wasn’t the best route to take.
“I see,” says Nile. “Well…then I’ll start at the beginning.”
The beginning, as Nile sees fit to explain it, was that the prince Duke Nicolò’s father had married twice. His eldest son was now prince in his stead. Duke Nicolò had inherited rulership of this city and its lands through his mother, and that only because his next-eldest full brother had died in a horse-riding accident, followed in short order by his father (of age) and his mother (of a winter illness).
“Which is why we are all still in mourning,” Nile says, gesturing to her clothes. “For the princess. The duchess, as she was better known here.”
“Ah, of course,” says Yusuf, who had entirely forgotten that people wore black for mourning here. “But I do not see how this explains anything.”
“The catch,” Nile explains, “is that his brother the prince has many children and would very much like to give one of them the title, even though he was not Nicolò’s mother’s son. Before his brother’s accident – his other brother -”
“He seems to have so many,” Yusuf says, dryly.
Nile laughs. “Only three, and the third is fortunately not relevant to this tale. Anyway, before that, the duke was intending to go into the Church – I know there are some Christians in your land, so I presume you know what that means. He was still considering it, but I had persuaded him to wait until he was done mourning for his mother. And I fear what has happened is that his brother the prince has arranged this marriage so when he rejects it for the Church – as he is likely to do, because he is a man who does not enjoy being caught off-guard – none can say that his brother did not attempt to do right by Nicolò, and he can take the ducal title with everybody’s goodwill.”
“And what is meant to happen to me, in this instance?”
“Not being in the prince’s confidence, I could not say, except that he has many children and I am sure you could be wed to one of them. Probably one of the younger ones, as you bring wealth but no lands or title.”
“I could not object to that in principle,” Yusuf says slowly, studying the fountain, “having agreed to it once already, but…I do not like the idea of being a chess piece in somebody else’s game. Nor of being something to flee from.”
“Good,” Nile says, a little viciously; he looks over at her, surprise. “The thing I have not told you, yet, is that the duke is a good ruler and his brother is not. We do not wish him to cede the title – I mean, myself and his other advisors, and I believe also the people of the city. So, please. If you can find it within yourself, despite this reception. Stay, and marry him.”
“I can’t make him marry me,” Yusuf points out. “I am alone here. And if it is truly his wish to go to the Church, who would I be to stop him? I met him an hour ago.”
“You are really extraordinarily well-suited,” says Nile, and leaves him in the courtyard.
FILL: Yusuf/Nicolo - arranged marriage with a twist (2/?)
The duke’s closest advisors consist of Lady Nile (who seems to be what Yusuf would term his wazir, but doubtless they call it something else here), Captain Andromache, who apparently captains his guard – this is a little unusual in a woman, but she does not look like to take questions about it – the chatelaine of the palace (that word Yusuf does know), called Quỳnh, and a man called Sébastien who is apparently the mayor of the city.
“Nile,” says the duke. “Please explain how it is I come to have a husband I knew nothing about.”
“A fiancé, technically, your grace,” says Lady Nile. “But as you know, a betrothal of this sort is nearly as hard to get out of as a marriage.”
“I would like to know how you came to know nothing about it, too,” Yusuf says. “I didn’t come here to be foisted on anybody.” If he treats it as a negotiation, nobody will notice that he has nothing to bargain with and desperately wants to hide. He cannot imagine his aunt and uncle sending him knowingly into this situation.
“This is what happens when you sign things your brother gives you without reading them,” Andromache says pointedly.
“It was in Arabic!”
“Only the first page,” Yusuf points out, at the same time as Nile-the-advisor does. They share a rueful look; he likes her immediately, for the small piece of shared ground.
“I see,” the duke says, looking at the copy Nile has given him. “I…see.”
“I know this was just after your mother’s death,” Nile says. “It was a difficult time.”
“That isn’t an excuse on my part.” His voice is clipped.
“Look,” Yusuf says. “If I am that displeasing to you, surely you can just divorce me.” He feels bad saying it because his family does very much want this arrangement; he should argue their part; but he can hardly sit here and demand to be married to a man who has said flatly he doesn’t want a husband.
Everybody looks at him as though he has said something highly ignorant, or baffling. He flushes. “Can you not?”
“They’re not going to grant a divorce, or more accurately an annulment, without cause,” says the duke. “Would it be that easy, in your country?”
“Yes,” says Yusuf.
The duke rubs his forehead. “Could you all – I would like to speak with Signor…” He has to glance down at the document. “Yusuf. Alone. Quỳnh, could you see about arranging rooms?”
“Of course,” murmurs the chatelaine; she exchanges a glance Yusuf can’t read with Andromache the guardswoman. The mayor seems grateful to escape. Nile hesitates, but leaves with the others.
He doesn’t even remember Yusuf’s name. This is absolutely fantastic. Just the marriage Yusuf always dreamed of.
“I want you to know,” the duke says from behind his desk, “this really isn’t…I’m sure you’re…” He trails off.
“Please,” Yusuf says, feeling very tired, “don’t bother. Your grace.”
“Would it be a hardship,” the duke asks, quietly, “for you to return?”
Yusuf does him the courtesy of thinking this over. He is irrationally annoyed by how attractive the duke seems, in this moment, looking at him with concern. Yusuf had told himself strictly not to expect anything. He had not been expecting the duke’s elegant figure, or his sea-green eyes, or the line of his neck; Yusuf isn’t sure whether he wants to lick it or paint it. And the only question he has for Yusuf is whether it would be a hardship for him to return unmarried whence he had come. It is incredibly unfair.
“Not in any of the ways you probably mean,” he says. “A little humiliation never killed anybody.”
For some reason, this causes the duke to flush. “I see.” He coughs. “Ah. Lady Quỳnh will show you to your rooms, and…I will consult with the bishop, but I expect…you may be here some time before matters can be…arranged.”
“Then I shall attempt to treat it as a stay for pleasure,” Yusuf says, “and not anything else.” He gets up and leaves. It’s probably rude. He is really past caring.
Of course, the minute he leaves the room, he realises that he has no idea where anything is in this large but seemingly quite empty palace, nor where he might be supposed to go. It is tempting to try and return to the ship, which will still be in port, but – he knows enough of these things to know that if he goes, the betrothal will certainly stand. Yusuf would quite like to marry someone, one day. For a number of reasons. So here, he supposes, he will stay.
“Oh, good,” says someone; he turns to see Nile. “I hope the duke didn’t – he’s one of the kindest people I know, normally, but this is very…very stressful.”
“I’m sure it is,” Yusuf agrees. She winces.
“Listen. I need – we need to have a discussion, about how this has come about. Will you walk with me? I know Quỳnh is still arranging your rooms.”
She takes him out into a courtyard that centers on a fountain full of beautiful statuary – life-like beasts and humans, such as you would not see in the palaces of Yusuf’s home, not that he has spent any time in them. It is very different, but he can appreciate the craft all the same.
“I imagine you’re wondering,” she says, “what on earth is going on here.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Well.” She folds her arms. “I suppose it started with – the thing you need to know is – I’m sorry, this is complicated. How much do you know about the royal family here?”
“Almost nothing,” Yusuf says, “except that I was being betrothed to the youngest son, who is a duke, because my family wanted trade access and his wanted funds. I could have sought to know more. I didn’t.” He is aware, now, that having agreed, he was worried he would find out something that would make it seem like a bad idea. Perhaps that wasn’t the best route to take.
“I see,” says Nile. “Well…then I’ll start at the beginning.”
The beginning, as Nile sees fit to explain it, was that the prince Duke Nicolò’s father had married twice. His eldest son was now prince in his stead. Duke Nicolò had inherited rulership of this city and its lands through his mother, and that only because his next-eldest full brother had died in a horse-riding accident, followed in short order by his father (of age) and his mother (of a winter illness).
“Which is why we are all still in mourning,” Nile says, gesturing to her clothes. “For the princess. The duchess, as she was better known here.”
“Ah, of course,” says Yusuf, who had entirely forgotten that people wore black for mourning here. “But I do not see how this explains anything.”
“The catch,” Nile explains, “is that his brother the prince has many children and would very much like to give one of them the title, even though he was not Nicolò’s mother’s son. Before his brother’s accident – his other brother -”
“He seems to have so many,” Yusuf says, dryly.
Nile laughs. “Only three, and the third is fortunately not relevant to this tale. Anyway, before that, the duke was intending to go into the Church – I know there are some Christians in your land, so I presume you know what that means. He was still considering it, but I had persuaded him to wait until he was done mourning for his mother. And I fear what has happened is that his brother the prince has arranged this marriage so when he rejects it for the Church – as he is likely to do, because he is a man who does not enjoy being caught off-guard – none can say that his brother did not attempt to do right by Nicolò, and he can take the ducal title with everybody’s goodwill.”
“And what is meant to happen to me, in this instance?”
“Not being in the prince’s confidence, I could not say, except that he has many children and I am sure you could be wed to one of them. Probably one of the younger ones, as you bring wealth but no lands or title.”
“I could not object to that in principle,” Yusuf says slowly, studying the fountain, “having agreed to it once already, but…I do not like the idea of being a chess piece in somebody else’s game. Nor of being something to flee from.”
“Good,” Nile says, a little viciously; he looks over at her, surprise. “The thing I have not told you, yet, is that the duke is a good ruler and his brother is not. We do not wish him to cede the title – I mean, myself and his other advisors, and I believe also the people of the city. So, please. If you can find it within yourself, despite this reception. Stay, and marry him.”
“I can’t make him marry me,” Yusuf points out. “I am alone here. And if it is truly his wish to go to the Church, who would I be to stop him? I met him an hour ago.”
“You are really extraordinarily well-suited,” says Nile, and leaves him in the courtyard.