Chapter Text
The sun rose steadily, staining the morning sky with hues of pinks and purples. Songbirds and ravens could be heard in the near distance, harmonizing in sweet melodies as the wind carried the aromas of fresh flowers and baked goods across the Westhelm Empire. The skies were almost devoid of clouds, allowing the early morning glow to rest upon the Imperial Palace of Westhelm.
Even with the morning sun barely peeking through the blinds of the dark horizon, the Emperor of Westhelm already found himself in his private study, skimming through files and documents with the enthusiasm of a man preparing for war. Schpood’s attention rested solely on the files before him, so much so that he did not notice when his Vice and Second-in-command, Spyder, walked into the study holding a charcoal-tainted envelope.
Clearing his throat lightly, Spyder drew the attention of the Emperor, who, frankly, did not seem too surprised to see his right-hand man appear so suddenly. “So?” Schpood asked, face painted with a tired expression.
Spyder approached Schpood with practised elegance while he spoke, “The Royal messenger received this on his journey back to the empire. He says it is of utmost importance that you go through it, sire.” Upon reaching the dark, wooded desk, he set down the envelope, taking note of the spreadsheets and journals scattered on the table before making a mental note to review them later.
Schpood spared a glance at the envelope and grimaced. The symbol engraved on its front — a volcano mid-eruption — was enough for him to know exactly who and where the letter came from, if the charcoal stains were not already enough of a clue.
“What the hell is this about now?” He questioned, more to himself than to Spyder, as he reached for the envelope and opened it. Pulling out the surprisingly pristine white sheet inside, Spyder waited as his Emperor read the contents, but got increasingly worried as Schpood’s expression changed from annoyance to confusion to pure mirth in a matter of mere seconds.
Much to the right-hand man’s astonishment, Schpood finished the letter with a chaotic grin on his face. The Emperor then turned to him with a look in his eyes that Spyder knew meant trouble was brewing.
“Spyder, alert the travel faction of the Royal guards; we are heading to the Kingdom of Elysium.”
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“I am glad you all made it safe and sound. Though, to be honest, I am quite surprised most of you even bothered to show up,” Queen Cynikka, the infamous ruler of Infernus, remarked as she sipped on the tea the anxious servant had brought into the hall filled with nobles.
In the beautiful Elysium garden hall were some of the world’s most prominent figures: Schpood — the Emperor of Westhelm, Cynikka — the Queen of Infernus, Cass — the leader of the Cass Coalition, Benji — the King of Elysium, Madzvie — the head figure of Barbieland, Turntapp — the overseer of the Covenant, and Jophiel — the Queen of Tricolor.
Those, though, were the majority that Schpood could name, as one of the characters engaging with the Inferno Queen was not a familiar face.
“Leaving that be,” she continued, “I believe the mere fact that we, as high-ranking nobles, are having this meeting recognizes the significance of the dilemma we have on our hands.”
“And what would that dilemma be, my dear Queen?” Jophiel asked her tone seemingly neutral, but Schpood could undoubtedly hear the light teasing in her words. The Inferno Queen sighed as she looked around the hall at the sea of faces before groaning, “We have to do something about Saparata and Fluixon, lest they will drive us all to our eventual demise with their incessant pining!”
The tension in the room considerably lifted after she spoke – her words cutting through the stiffness sharper than a butcher’s knife – and a majority of the crowd smiled and nodded in agreement.
“It truly is a wonder how such promising, intelligent figures can be so dense when it comes to understanding their true feelings for one another,” Jophiel said, words now spoken with a calm and unguarded tone.
“I’m telling you, I wish I knew as well!” Madzvie exclaimed animatedly. “You’d think that after having known each other for so many years, they’d finally acknowledge their feelings for one another!”
Schpood snorted rather ungracefully at that. “Believe me, if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that time has ceased to play any role in progressing relationships. You would be surprised at the sheer number of fools who would rather bury their feelings, even after decades of friendship,” he said while taking a bite of one of the many biscuits that accompanied the tea set.
“Yes, yes, the two have major communication issues they need to work on,” Cass began, drawing the attention of the other nobles, “But should we really meddle in their relationship just because?” she reasoned.
The unfamiliar man gave a short, mocking laugh at that as he crossed his arms, leaning back into the decorative lounge chair. “With the way things are going, your Highness, there won’t even be a relationship to meddle in if nothing is done soon.”
With a wave of her hand, the Inferno Queen finally introduced the unfamiliar face as Thomas, Fluixon’s own second-in-command. “So, why are you here?” Turntapp asked, eyes brimming with curiosity.
Thomas sat up straighter and sighed dejectedly, looking as if the world as he knew it was grey and exhausting, “Because I was the one who suggested her Majesty do something about them, right before she decided to call for this meeting instead.”
The nobles did not speak as Thomas continued, “You all, no offense, have no idea how difficult it is to deal with Fluixon and his obsessive, confusing personality! He is always thinking of Saparata, and I mean always. He stares at a painting — Oh, I wonder how Saps would look in paint; he's gifted an ore — I wonder how good Saps would look in this; he tours a city — I wonder if Saps would be interested in living here. It is always about Saparata!” Thomas reiterated Fluixon’s words, mimicking his monotone voice almost perfectly as he clawed at his hair in frustration.
Some of the nobles could not help but grin at this, because this was no less than how Saparata behaved about Fluixon as well.
Many, if not all, of Saparata’s close companions could testify on multiple occasions just how frequently their friend made off-hand comments about his crush; always subconsciously as well, as if thinking of Fluixon was practically second nature to him. It was a quiet surprise learning that Fluixon was the same way with Saparata, maybe even worse.
“I just want them to get it over with! Kiss, make out, fuck— I’d rather not fucking care, but I do, because if I don’t then I’ll be stuck with a crazed idiot who probably doesn’t realize he’s head over heels in love with his best friend,” Thomas concluded, heavy with the frustration of a man who had seen and heard too many things.
Silence settled in the hall as Thomas’s words resonated. A good lot of them, long ago, had concluded that the pair would have eventually gotten their shit together and confess, especially after the war ended a whopping 3 years ago; but alas, nothing had come of it, and they had been forced to watch their friends dance around each other and their feelings like headless chickens in a sandstorm.
“So…” a voice started, one which Schpood soon realized was Madzvie’s, “Are we going to actually do something about this?” she voiced at last, the question that had been wrestling through the sea of minds.
“As Thomas said, at this rate, nothing will come of them with this song and dance they are doing,” Turntapp sighed, cocking his head to the side.
“And with Saparata’s lack of confidence and Fluixon’s lack of common sense,” Cynikka included, her voice turning fond for a split second at the mention of her idiot friend. “That song and dance may last for a long while.”
Silence returned to the hall, this time filled with heavy thinking rather than muffled laughter and playful pity. “Okay, that settles it,” a new voice remarked — Benji. The quiet, optimistic King had a grin as he spoke, “We should, and probably will, do something about it. But,” he paused for dramatic effect, “There must be some ground rules.”
“Obviously,” the Tricolor Queen said, voice regal and firm. “None of us can directly bring up their obvious feelings for each other. In my experience, it only makes things worse.” Schpood pointedly ignored the subtle side-eyes both Jophiel and Cass gave him.
“Also,” Cass adds, “For the love of Ish, do not do anything that will directly startle their already rocky relationship. We do not need to make this worse for them or ourselves.” Her tone spoke with an unquestionable finality, and everyone could only nod in agreement.
As the meeting came to an end, Cynikka smiled slyly and set down her teacup, signifying the end of her time here. “It seems that we have all come to an agreement, then.”
“We all will return to our respective Kingdoms—” Schpood coughed (not-so) subtly “—… or Empires, think of ways to finally hoist the sails of this annoyingly stagnant ship and report it via a general carrier eagle which I will appoint to each of y—”
Schpood stopped paying attention at this point, mind already brewing up ways to finally break down the romantic barrier between his best friend and a man he still didn’t believe was worthy of his friend’s undying love and attention.
However, if that was the man Saparata planned on spending the rest of his life with, he sure as hell was going to make sure there was no half-assing in finally setting this ship to sail.