Jehanparnasse || 1K || Arranged Marriage AU
Since it’s @theblazeofmemory‘s birthday, i’ve asked her what she wanted me to write and she chose this! It comes from a long thread of headcanons that can basically be summed up by:
Montparnasse is known as the King of Thieves and has married Jehan for a political alliance with Jehan’s kingdom. At this point (after a great deal of pining), they’ve both fallen in love. Problem is, war broke out with the neighbouring kingdom and Montparnasse was capture. Jehan managed to rescue him, unbeknown to the enemy.
Montparnasse almost looked peaceful, if you turned a blind eye and ignored the field of bruises that had bloomed on his face. The purplish marks trailed down his neck, and Jehan knew for a fact his chest and legs had not been spared. The enemy had avoided making any “real” damage, but they wouldn’t pass the opportunity to play with their prisoner.
The idea turned Jehan’ stomach, and he sought comfort in Montparnasse’s hair, combing the black curls softly. He was alive. It was all that mattered. Jehan had managed to get him back alive. The Consort laid a kiss on the King’s forehead, choosing an unscathed patch of skin. Babet had said Montparnasse would recover. If the Kingdom would rejoice, Jehan knew the King’s tormentors would welcome the news with much less enthusiasm.
“Your Majesty,” a voice called behind him.
Being the only conscious “Majesty” in the room, Jehan turned over. Claquesous had a satisfied smile on his ever half-hidden face. Good news.
“The commander of the enemy faction is here. They seem under the impression that the King is still in their hands.”
The enemy was here. They had come to make a bargain, no doubt. The King of Thieves’ life against their submission. The ball was in Jehan’s court now. He took another look at Montparnasse, his swollen face kindling something he had rarely felt in his life: contempt.
“Make them wait in an empty room,” Jehan ordered calmly, never taking his eyes off his husband. “I want every member of the Council, every courtier, every minstrel and bard in the throne room, everybody you can find.”
“Shall the servant fetch your official garments?”
Jehan looked down at himself. He wasn’t fit to receive anyone, with just a thin silk robe thrown on a shirt and britches. Perfect.
“No. I will receive them as I am. They’re not worth the regalia.”
Receiving the enemy dressed as he was would be more humiliating to them than the other way around. A royal that doesn’t dress is a royal that doesn’t take you seriously. And Jehan sure would not give them the pleasure.
“I will show them how the King’s Consort slays his enemies.”