#creatnativity

Day One.

Violent Red / Calming Green.

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Snowball Fight / Snowed In.

Day Two.

Horror / Romance.

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Memory Loss / Knows Too Much.

Day Three.

Monochromatic / Oversaturated.

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Replaced / Missing Piece.

Day Four.

Dream / Problematic.

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Dark Fairytale / Fantastical Simulation.

Day Five.

Hero / Monster.

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Forced Affection / Love Language.

Day Six.

Wish (that shouldn't be) / Sharing.

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Tender Obsession / I'm So Sorry, I Didn’t Mean To Feel Like This.

Day Seven.

Fireworks / Quiet Night In.

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Their parents had sent Remus off when the twins were 8 to be a page under one of their most esteemed knights, a vainglorious warmonger under the Weston crest. Both twins had begged and pleaded for their parents to reconsider, that they'd be on their best behavior from here on out, but they fell on deaf ears. The twins were too much trouble together. Of course, they always meant Remus was too much trouble.

"Time spent training the mind and body will make you a strong, valiant general one day, one that Escheri can count on," the King chided. "Your future, the kingdom's future, depends on you turning this misguided and destructive energy into something productive."

Though the boys were equally mischievous in nature, their parents usually pinned the blame on Remus. Roman knew it was unfair and tried to do what he could to spare his younger brother the harsh punishments, but the King and Queen were nothing if not strict. Their parents never said anything about it, but instinctually, the twins knew it was because Remus, though a near mirror image of Roman, had been born with his left leg tightly folded in on itself, which caused him to have a pronounced limp.

That night, they laid together in Roman's bed, sharing tears and clinging to each other, covering each other's cheeks and foreheads and noses with chaste kisses over and over again until their jaws ached. Under the pale light of a crescent moon, they made a pact to never let a week go by without a letter, and that once they met again, they'd never again separate.

That was far more than a decade ago now. Roman thumbed over his heart, making like he was brushing off an imperfection to his crisp, white regalia. What his parents would never, could never know about was that he always stowed the latest letter from Remus in a pocket he'd sewn into his shift. This particular letter had promised surprises, though Remus had neglected to mention what it was. He didn't even mention when, only that it would be "soon."

A sharp rap from the Queen yanked him out of his head. He sat up straighter. "My apologies," Roman said, not sorry in the least.

"Good," she praised, then got back to her gossiping.

Roman sighed quietly. He hoped whatever surprise Remus had in store was actually coming soon.

It wasn't long after that thought that Roman felt eyes boring into him. As a Prince, he was used to all eyes being on him all the time, but this felt... different. His impassive face scanned the crowd. Nothing looked amiss, but the feeling remained, crawling beneath his skin and beading sweat at his brow. A glance toward his parents showed that neither of them were paying much attention to him. One more scan across the crowd and he finally saw him.

A cloaked figure in green, one who wore a jackal's mask, stood in the stretching shadows of a nearby alley to the right, eyes trained on the Prince.

A single blink took the figure and the scrutiny away, but Roman kept focusing on where the figure had been. There was no way anyone could've simply vanished into thin air. Had he imagined the whole thing? Though the stranger had certainly unnerved him, nothing else out of the ordinary happened while Roman was tucked away in the royal palanquin. It did little to assuage him though; assassination attempts were becoming relatively commonplace in his daily life.

His father had become wildly unpopular with their people, thanks to being a rather flippant man who cared little for politics and lacked opinions of his own. Even his mother was despised by those outside their circle for being haughty and stingy. It reached a head when a blight struck many parts of the country the previous year. His parents had been reluctant to part with their more than ample reserves, no matter how Roman protested. He tried to sneak help out, but it was never enough. By the end of it, the people turned him away when they saw him coming. Nary a week went by without some barely thwarted poisoning or stabbing or bludgeoning on both his parents and himself. Maybe that's what this was about.

The thought plagued him as the feast began. He never let it show as he ate the meager meal in front of him, always served at the palanquin and never at the long, boisterous tables set up for everyone else. Too soon, it came time for him to deliver the toast after his father gave his small speech.

He descended from his throne and stood on the ground just outside it, untouched wineglass in hand. After steeling himself and plastering a pleasant smile on his face, he spoke. "My people, it is a great honor to stand before you all today. As we celebrate the bounty of the harvest, let's take time to be thankful for not only the goodwill of the Gods, but in the goodwill of our kingdom, our friends, our neighbors, and those who protect us—" He caught sight of the jackal-masked stranger leaning against a lamppost no more than 20 feet away from him, arms crossed nonchalantly. Roman's stomach dropped. From here, he could see the cocky smile on the man's face peeking from under the mask.

The Queen cleared her throat loudly. Murmurs passed between the people at the tables.

Roman forcibly turned his attention away from the cloaked figure, though the man remained planted in place. "Um. Yes, uh... I'd like to toast not only to my family and our glorious kingdom, but to all of you as well. Cheers," Roman said, faltering at the last word but still raising his glass. Everyone carried on as if he hadn't just royally blundered.

As he climbed back into the silken cage, his mother glared coldly. "When we return to the palace, you will be reciting the proper toast until the sun comes up," she bit.

Though Roman's body felt fiery, he took a breath before saying, "My apologies, my Queen. It seems I was momentarily distracted by a... most unusual attendant. I feel that there may be another assassination attempt in the works."

The Queen shook her head. "Enough excuses, Roman," she said sharply.

"We have more than enough guards to ensure our safety," the King grunted.

Roman bit his tongue, turning away from his parents. He suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.

As the feast wound down, Roman's already tight chest filled with icy dread. He hated the ritual. His fingers brushed the scar on his palm; it always brought back the memory of his first ritual when he was 9. More heavily, he couldn't banish the smirking image of the masked man. Roman knew he was around here somewhere, but no one else seemed to notice or if they did, they didn't care. Why did no one else seem to care?

The royal sanctuary's clock tower chimed the hour. Each of the nine bells rattled through Roman's skull. His knuckles turned as white as his tunic as he grasped the thick fabric of his pants. Regardless of his wishes, the tolling bell was his signal to begin the ritual. The crowd fell silent, the music stopped, the discord outside the walls became a murky din. The king and queen rose from their thrones, cuing Roman to do the same right after them. As a group, they strode straight down the aisle made by the tables toward the unlit burning pile. Torch bearers fell into step behind them, clad in brown and orange ceremonial robes. Just one step behind them came the bearers of the offerings in brown and deep red, carrying one gourd and one calf, and at the back of the party strode the bearer of the ceremonial dagger in brown and somber plum.

All eyes locked on him as the pile neared. None of them mattered. At the back of the crowd stood the man in the jackal mask. Roman steeled his composure as best he could, but the quickening pace of his heartbeat thundered in his ears. He forced himself to look away, to just look forward and get through this horrid ritual. His parents split in front of the pile, leaving space between them for him. He turned back toward the crowd when he'd taken his place and frantically scanned the crowd with just his eyes, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

The man... he had to be a figment of Roman's imagination. There was no way anyone could move that fast. He took a deep breath and expelled all the unrest in his belly. Of course the man was nothing more than something his mind conjured! The ceremonial procession came into their first position, two out of the three torch bearers standing at either side of the pile and everyone else kneeling in front of them. In the middle knelt the bearer of the dagger and the last torch bearer.

"My people," Roman said confidently, "the time has come to pay our dues for such an excellent harvest this year and ensure our future bounty and prosperity. Through these sacrifices, we give thanks to the Gods who so graciously provided for us. We offer our praise and benediction for the fruits of the earth, so lovingly provided by the Gods and those that move them." He took the dagger and the gourd, carving a perfect hole in the top and setting the seed-laden cap aside. One torch bearer set their flame to the unlit pile, holding it steadily in place.

Roman gulped at the next part. The bearers brought forth the calf and wrangled it to where its neck was splayed right over the opened gourd. He knelt in front of it, licked his dry, dry lips, and placed the blade against the animal's throat. "We offer praise and benediction for the noble beasts that give their lives, so carefully tended by the herders, hunters, and flock keepers," he boomed with false confidence. With a remorseful look to the poor calf, he quickly slid the blade across it's throat, not watching as it's blood pumped into the open gourd. The baby bellowed out, thrashing and kicking to try to get away, but it was held too firmly. It was always held too firmly.

The calf stilled, and the second bearer set their torch to the pile and held it steady.

Roman stood taller than he felt was natural. No one noticed. He set the bloodied blade to his own palm, the sharp metal taunting him. "We give praise and benediction for the children of man, who enact the will of the Gods piously in all they do," he said.

Before he could make the cut, however, a voice cut through from behind him, "I think the Gods want more than blood."

Roman whirled, suddenly coming face to face with the jackal-masked man. Smoothly, the man seized the knife from Roman's hands and slashed his parents' throats before Roman had time to flinch. As blood came pouring from their necks, the man pushed them into the growing bonfire. Without breaking momentum, he lobbed the bloody gourd into the fire at them. Before Roman had even registered them disappearing into the growing flames, the man had already hefted Roman over his shoulder. Before Roman realized hundreds of armored, armed men had flooded the square, they were already far down the alley, hundreds of bloodcurdling screams ringing in his ears.

Roman tried to flail against his captor, to do any kind of damage at all, but everything bounced off the man like he was throwing pebbles at a wall. "Unhand me!" Roman cried. "Put me down!" The man didn't listen, jostling him roughly as he ran far too quickly for any human. It was like being on a horse and going nearly as fast.

Roman's captor brought him all the way to the carriage house of the castle using back alleys and shadowy corridors.

"Ugh, I'm gonna be feeling that one tomorrow," grumbled the man under his breath. He regained his composure to say, "Now then my little Prince, you are not to move or shout when I put you down and you'll let me explain."

Roman offered no response, but the man put him down anyway. He didn't have it in him to fight. Hand-to-hand combat never was his strong suit, and even his own people would sooner see him hanged for the sins of his father than assume the throne after their murder, no matter how hard he tried to make up for it and no matter the help he tried to send. His parents were dead and he was likely to follow in the next few minutes, without ever getting to see Remus again.What else was he to do but graciously bear his throat and go out with dignity? "I only ask that you make it quick," he said, closing his eyes.

"Uh, what are you doing?" the man asked him.

Roman's eyes shot open, staring at the man. "You mean... you're not going to kill me...?"

He chuckled. "I'm not about to kill my own brother," Remus said, peeling his mask off with a grin. "Surprise!"

Tears sprang to Roman's eyes and his hand covered his mouth. "It- It's really you," he breathlessly said.

Remus offered him a hand up. Roman gladly took it, and Remus tugged him up and into a strong, loving embrace. They smothered each other in kisses as fervently as starving men devour food. The brothers held each other for a long while, crying and laughing and kissing and rocking back and forth on their heels before Roman pulled back to drink the sight of his brother in. Their faces were still nearly identical, same strong chin and glittering brown eyes, but Remus now sported a curling mustache, a lock of silver hair on the front of his head, and several healed scars over his impecable visage.

"I can't believe it!" Roman gushed, holding Remus' face in his hands and running his fingers over the now tear-soaked scars. "I— I've missed you so terribly all these years! Ma petite feuille!"

"You're not the only one, hummingbird. I dreamed of you every night," Remus replied, gently stroking Roman's cheek and wiping his tears away.

Roman's heart leapt at the nickname, but his smile quickly faltered. "You... killed our parents."

Remus' smile widened. "Heh, yeah, I did! I don't suppose you'll be locking me in the dungeons, will you?" he purred.

Roman shook his head. "Of course not. I knew one of these days the attempts people were taking would succeed. And you know how mother and father were! They sent you away and kept us from being together all these years."

"I guess that's what one awkward kiss in the stables will do, huh?" Remus said, faltering a moment. "Well that and them hating me for coming out wrong."

"We kept trying to tell them we just wanted to know what it was like and that we wouldn't do it again, but they were never fair," Roman recalled.

"It's not like that was the truth anyway, and it's not like it matters now!" Remus said brightly with a shrug.

Once again, Roman shook his head. "They don't matter anymore, but... what about the kingdom? No one likes our family and I can't even blame them for it."

"Oh believe me, I know. Knights and commoners talk about that a lot. Buuuuuuut I also know how we can redeem you in the eyes of the people," Remus said, kissing Roman's nose, "and even better, we can finally do what we promised to when we parted!"

Roman's heart skipped a beat. "You mean..."

Remus nodded. "Yeah, I mean," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a simple golden ring. "I hope you like getting dirty, little birdy."

"I don't care what we have to do, I just want to be with you," Roman said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "No one can stop us now."

Remus laughed. "I know!" he exclaimed, not holding back his own jubilation as he slid the weighty wedding band onto Roman's ring finger. "No one will get in the way of us again."

"No one," Roman repeated. He hugged Remus tightly. His other half was back, and for the first time in over a decade, he finally felt whole again.

That night, the two got to work enacting their illusion: Roman, the Prince of Escheri, played the captive of the man who had deposed the king and queen. Iron manacles hung heavy from his wrists, and Remus had smeared some mud and blood from the knife on his face to make it seem like there had been a real struggle. Remus had even retrieved the crown from the castle. With a final tender kiss behind closed doors, the show began.

Remus led Roman to the top of the palace walls with guards trailing behind them. The sound of chaos crept closer the higher up they went, reaching a crescendo once they'd crested the wall. Upon seeing the two of them, one of the guards sounded a warhorn, and the crowd grew quiet. That was their cue. Remus stepped forward, tugging Roman forward with him until they could see the masses of people below.

"People of Escheri," Remus boomed in his most official voice, "you were promised much and given little by these paltry royals. While you starved and ailed and toiled for them, they left you hungry, sick, and weary. But their time is over. The tyrants have fallen!" He held the crown over his head in triumph and put it on his own head. Cheers erupted through the crowd, nearly deafening. "And as a final humiliation to the royal family I betrayed, I will claim the crown prince as my bride!" He raised Roman's shackled hands.

The crowd got even more boisterous at that, and Roman tried his best to look ashamed and tearful.

"Today," Remus continued, "we celebrate not only the harvest, but the dawn of a new era of prosperity for all!"

Remus led Roman away to thunderous jubilation behind them. Once they were out of sight and back on solid ground, Remus suddenly stumbled. Roman caught him as best he could, but the pair still came tumbling down with Roman landing on top of Remus.

"Ree, are you okay? What happened?" Roman asked frantically.

Remus just laid there beneath him and chuckled. "The potions wore off," he said, sighing.

"Potions? What potions?"

"The ones that help me move?" Remus replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Roman just furrowed his brow, but moved to get up. Before he made it far, Remus pulled him back down into a kiss. "Let's stay here awhile."

"On the ground...?"

Remus just kissed him again. And again. They were the world's most persuasive lips if Roman had to guess, because 30 minutes later they were still there making up for lost time as they gazed at the stars. They shared stories of their time apart, everything that wouldn't fit in their letters, like how Roman had been thrown off a horse the first time he'd ridden one on his own at 10, how he'd pulled off his final prank, and of the time Remus bested his begrudging mentor when he was 19.

"The man actually believed me when I told him there was a damsel in distress near the boar's cave!" Remus guffawed. "I didn't finish him off, but it's a funny thing about boars, they don't care as long as they smell blood. So I ripped the crest from his tunic and left him there when I heard the snuffling. Never saw him again and no one ever asked for details, but he had a damn fine horse!"

"That's impressive," Roman said, smiling. "You managed to deprive the old loon of the glory he ached for in death. Serves him right, really, a tyrant knight for tyrant masters."

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman saw Remus move. He turned his head to see that lovely mirrored image reflected back at him, confused and delighted. "Since when did you become so vengeful?" asked Remus.

Roman laughed and rolled onto his side to face his brother. "You already know the answer to that."

Remus, in turn, answered back, "Heh, yeah," and rolled with some effort onto his side. "I... might need you to carry me back to the palace. I really overdid it and I don't think my legs will do the job. Well, maybe the right one will if it's not going to be a traitorous bastard."

"Fine, but you need to take these chains off me first," he said, sitting up and reaching over to help Remus do the same. Remus pulled the key from his pocket and slid it into the locks. The cuffs fell to the ground with a light clang. "Ah, thank you." Getting up, Roman picked them up and draped them around his neck and grabbed his fiancee's hands, tugging him up with more difficulty than he would've anticipated. "Gods, Remus, you're heavy!"

Remus cackled as he came up, collapsing against Roman with a sudden, "Fuck!" as his left foot made contact with the ground. A still moment passed, then Remus continued like nothing had happened, "Yeah, that's what hard combat will do to you."

As they started making their way toward the castle, Remus hobbling while Roman supported his left side, Roman asked, "You mentioned taking potions earlier?"

"Nothing too fancy, just strength and dexterity potions. Let's me move without my leg tightening back up too much."

"That's why you were so fast!" Roman concluded.

"Of course! It's rougher to do it on my own, but I could if I needed to for a short time."

"What did wicked Weston have you doing anyway?"

Remus shrugged. "Usual page stuff. Then typical squire things, followed by basic knighting. Lots more conflict than I anticipated."

"Conflict? When did you encounter that? We aren't at war."

"Ah, you've not been out in the streets lately, have you?"

Roman sighed sadly as the chains around his neck clanked in time with his footsteps. "Not with the leash our parents kept on me. I may as well have been a prisoner. Said it was 'too dangerous' since last year. That's when the assassination attempts started in earnest," he said.

"Probably for the best for you. I don't know what I would've done if something happened to you, hummingbird." Remus paused a moment, then said, "I mean, I would tear whoever hurt you apart and make their families watch, but regardless. I took care of mercenaries, mostly. The occasional bandit. Once when I was 18, the beast sent me after the leader of a local thieves guild alone. He never told me I'd be coming face to face with 30 of them."

"That many?? What happened?"

"You tell me. Only one of us came out alive."

"Ree."

Remus snorted. "Okay fine. It took hours, but I managed to pluck them out one by one until only the leader remained. Then after a fearsome battle to the death, I alone remained. That's how I got this neat scar!" he said, pointing to a jagged line beneath his eye. "After that, I guess I kind of became something of a folk hero? Everyone got real candid with me. I heard everyone's distaste for our parents. And..." Remus looked away, "for you, too. I really tried to dissuade them from that. I'm sorry to say I couldn't with most of them. But they rallied behind me and soon enough, I had a plan to get everyone back on our side and get this country built back up."

Roman smiled. "You've really been out there doing a lot of good. It makes me so proud that you're my brother and now my betrothed. You deserve to be the one to lead the kingdom after all that," he praised.

"Without you by my side? I don't think so."

"Of course I'll be by your side but, honestly, what do I know of our actual kingdom? I've seen so little of it, experienced almost nothing of it outside the doors of the noble families, and frankly, I... I don't have any claim to be in charge of it."

Remus stopped abruptly, nearly causing them both to topple again. "You don't seriously believe that." A gentle breeze rustled dead leaves against the cobblestone street as thundering silence stretched between them. Roman couldn't meet Remus' eyes. "Roman, please tell me you don't think that."

After what seemed like ages, he solemnly replied, "I do. At least... that's how it is now. What has a life in an ivory tower taught me about running a country?"

"Did our parents really teach you nothing about— never mind. Because you know what? It doesn't matter. Roman, do you know why I did what I did? I mean, do you really know?"

"So we could be free?" Roman answered. "So we'd be able to wed like we promised?"

Remus chuckled. "That was a pretty big reason," he said. "But I had to do this because I knew that without us ruling together as a team, it would be for nothing. You forget that we get to make the rules now! And what we don't know, we can learn together or just make up."

Roman couldn't help how his heart swelled at that. "That's true," he said. "We have our whole lives to figure this out!"

Remus grinned brightly at Roman. "Exactly! Sometimes you gotta turn your mind off to see what's really there. Works for me all the time!" He knocked on his own head, then motioned them forward. "Now let's get going, I've got about, I'd say, 5 minutes until I can't move anymore."

"What??" Roman cried. "Why didn't you say that earlier??" 

"Eh, some things are worth it," Remus said casually. Giving Roman a lovestruck look, he added, "And you're worth everything."

"You're worth everything to me too, but this is important! Ahhhhh we're not going to make it in time!"

Remus shrugged. "You can just drag me back- Oh!" Roman hefted his brother up over his shoulder like Remus had done with him earlier. "Oh, okay, that works too."

Roman set off at a labored, wheezing trot, clanking wildly down the wide road to the castle. By the time the pair had made it to Roman's chambers up all of those damnable stairs, Roman's legs wobbled as he fell forward onto his canopied bed with Remus still over his shoulder.

"Wow, who knew you had it in you to carry me all this way unenhanced?" Remus delighted.

Roman only weakly groaned.

"Okay, okay, come here, I'll take it from here." Remus pulled himself out from under Roman and dragged him the rest of the way on the bed. He took Roman's boots off, tossed them on the ground, then rolled Roman over onto his back.

Though Roman still felt like he was breathing in fire, he gave Remus a weak smile. "Thanks," he wheezed.

"Tomorrow, let's stay in bed all day," Remus said, smoothing Roman's hair. He took off his own boots, then peeled off his leather armor and leg brace. "Ah, that's the good shit," he moaned, stretching his left leg out as much as he could.

"Bed all day with you sounds amazing," Roman replied, starting to undress himself shakily.

"Your room is different," Remus noted.

As Roman doffed his tunic, he said, "Yes, just a little. I like red, and mother made me earn it." The room, with its Rococo flair, ornate woodwork, and luxuriously upholstered furniture, had all been Roman's own preference. He hated the stoic, sterile Gothic style of his parents, down to the dreary colorlessness of the decor.

"What do you mean 'earn it?'" Remus asked, throwing his own tangled tunic to the floor.

"Oh, well. They made me stay awake and standing for the entire renovation. It was only three days, but..." Roman trailed off. "I wish I could say that was the worst of it after you left."

"Why not tell me about it in your letters?"

"They monitored them, you know. Withheld a few of them, tried to stop so many from going out, but I stole them back. For the past few years now, I've sent them in secret. They never knew I was still writing to you."

"The true faces of evil, huh. It's a good thing they got what they deserved," Remus said.

"Yeah," Roman said. The relief of that reality washed over him warmly. He tugged his pants off and let them fall to the floor, followed by his stockings. Suddenly, Remus' finger was resting over his heart.

"What's this?"

Roman hummed, then delicately retrieved the letter from its resting place at his heart and opened it for Remus. "I keep all the letters you send me, but your most recent letters stay here so they'll always be close to me," he explained wistfully. "It really helped me feel closer to you with all this space between us, y'know?"

"I guess we had the same idea then," Remus said. Roman's gaze drifted to his brother. In his hand was Roman's last letter to him, the crisp white parchment still as pristine as the day he'd written it. "I kept the others too."

"How? I must've sent hundreds by this point! Surely they couldn't have all fit in your saddlebags," Roman said, resting his hand on Remus' thigh.

"They did at one point. The others are somewhere safe, and I intend to retrieve them soon, all 792 of them."

"Where are they? We can ride out together and get them once we've rested."

"So long as we can move tomorrow," Remus laughed, taking the crown off and putting it on the bedside table. "And don't forget, we have a wedding to plan!" He leaned back onto the goose down mattress, making grabby hands at Roman.

"I can't wait to be your proper husband," Roman breathed, settling into the plush bed in Remus' arms.

"That makes two of us," Remus mumbled. "I love you, Roman." He held Roman just a touch tighter.

Roman leaned into it, snuggling closer to his brother. "I love you too." Without anything more than another kiss between them, the pair drifted off into the most comfortable sleep either of them had had in years.

A week came and went in the fanfare of planning the twins' wedding. They'd rehearsed the ceremony by themselves over and over, making sure every line and motion was expertly calculated. Remus directed castle staff in how the event was going to go down, what decorations they wanted, where everything needed to be for the big day. Roman wrote out more than 500 invitations and took care of making what decorations he could from his room. The twins had both agreed that in the spirit of a new era, their guest list would extend far beyond the usual list of attendants. Now that the noble population had been pared down, there wasn't much point to keeping such an arbitrary standard anyway.

Another week passed and finally, the big day arrived. Guests from all over their island nation had been steadily pouring in since the invitations had gone out, and the castle was nearing its capacity. The twins spent the morning with their tailor as the reedy man fussed over the finer details of their attire. He had to admit it was impressive how the man had accounted for Remus' leg brace into the design.

"I must say, my liege," the tailor said, "it is rather... avant garde for you to be wearing this suit instead of your brother's."

Remus just shrugged. "Nothing to say I can't. I feel like the role of the nurturer fits better since it's going to take someone, how did you say, avant garde? To lead our people. A nurturer is also a protector, you know."

The tailor hummed uncomfortably, but got to work closely examining his emerald green waistcoat's red hummingbird embroidery at the cuffs and split crew collar, making sure they were perfect.  Roman tried to stifle a giggle and examined his own outfit in the tall, gilded mirror.

His suit coat matched Remus' in all but color and accoutrement; green vines, flowers, and leaves adorned his flushed red coat, expertly graded into the soft, thick silk. The symbol of the provider. Ten elegant gold clasps fastened the finery together in the front. A delicate gossamer cape attached to the garment at the highest clasp, draped tacitly over his shoulders and spilled to the floor in a cascade of translucent cream. He turned and looked at how the loose, gathered pants bunched at his mid-calf and ended in an embroidered, widely-ruffled cuff. Simple cream stockings and dazzling wedding slippers that matched his suit tied the whole ensemble together.

Roman's heart caught in his chest. He looked over to Remus, who looked back at him quizzically. "This is really happening," Roman muttered.

"Of course it is!" Remus brimmed. "What do you take me for, a cheat?"

"No, never! I just mean... it's all becoming real now, you know?"

Remus pursed his lips and scrunched his brow. He clapped and said, "Malchior, this is truly exquisite work you've done, but I need to speak to my groom alone for a moment." Remus waved his hand. With a grumble about tucking a stray thread, the tailor exited the room with his supplies in hand, bumping past Roman as he left. Roman didn't miss the malicious twinkle in the man's eye as he passed.

"Now with that out of the way," Remus said, dropping his tone to a hush, "there's no need to worry. We've practiced hundreds of times together! What could go wrong?"

Roman shook his head, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. "It's not that I'm worried about messing it up, I'm not worried at all really." He turned his gaze back up, looking Remus in the eye with a watery grin. "I'm simply awestruck by all of this. We've waited decades to see this through, ma petite feuille, and now it's finally coming true," he uttered. He couldn't help the tears that welled and spilled over his cheeks, nor the smile that made his face ache from its power.

Remus came over and cupped Roman's face in his hand, wiping the tears away with a pleased grin. "Every day with you is magic, hummingbird, and I can't wait to spend every day with you as your husband." He kissed Roman then, soft and sweet and gentle and it filled him with the fire of a thousand suns. "We're going to bring this country back from the ashes our parents left them in." Remus wiped the tears from his face gently and kissed him again before going to the door.

The tailor followed him back in the room, the spiteful man sneering at Roman proudly. Roman, however, didn't care. How could he, the happiest man in the whole world, care about such a trivial thing as a tailor's opinion of him? Before long though, the reedy man busied himself tucking in a stray thread on one of the red hummingbirds in flight on Remus' collar.

Before long, they were alone again in preparation for the ceremony. They each grabbed a small container housing the ceremonial lip paints and brushes. "Shall I?" Roman asked, uncapping the tiny vessel.

"I'd be utterly wounded if you didn't! Literally, I'd have a knife in my heart, gooshing all over the place," Remus replied, miming the action overzealously.

Roman laughed, dabbing the brush into the ruby red makeup. "Well we can't have that, not on our wedding day." Remus offered his face forward and Roman, before applying the cream to his upper lip, kissed him once more for good measure. "I love you."

"I love you, too, more than you can ever know," Remus replied, bringing Roman in for a kiss once more. Roman quickly finished applying the makeup and Remus did the same with the emerald green makeup on Roman's bottom lip. "There, now you look like a true groom."

They looked at each other and themselves in the mirror. "This is always how I'd imagined it growing up," Roman said.

Remus smiled brightly at Roman, hand in hand. "Well then what are we waiting for?Let's step into our future."

Roman squeezed his hand tightly and smiled once more. "Yeah."