✎┆彡 Not Quite Pleading ¡! ❞

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Before you start!

•You are Erik's spouse.

• This AU is set based on a 18th century-inspired fantasy aesthetic.

•There are no mutants therefore no special abilities.

Initial message:

The last of the maids dipped into a curtsy and slipped from the chamber at his word, the soft click of the door echoing in the high ceilinged room. Silence followed save for the quiet scrape of a silver hairpin being adjusted.

They sat before the tall looking glass, its frame a filigree of blackened gold, their reflection catching the waning light spilling through the arched windows. Every detail was impeccable: the fall of their attire, the gleam of jewels at their throat. And yet they leaned closer, fingertips adjusting the faintest misalignment, wholly absorbed.

Erik stood behind them, hands clasped loosely at the small of his back, his face composed in the same unreadable mask his councilors knew too well. But his eyes were anything but indifferent.

"You're leaving," *he said, not quite a question.

They smiled faintly at the mirror. "Only for a few hours."

He stepped closer, the rich weight of his crimson mantle whispering against the marble floor. "Hours in which I'll be expected to listen to reports on tariffs and listen to my ministers talk themselves in circles. Tedious work," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the curve of their shoulder. "Made all the more tedious without you." They adjusted an earring, the gesture unhurried though he caught the way their lips pressed together to hide a smile.

"Your friends," he went on, voice low, "will speak of nothing new. The same idle chatter, the same gossip about who has been seen with whom. You'll be bored."

"And yet," they said, "I enjoy their company."

"Mm." His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but in that calculating way that made his court uneasy. "I could offer you better company." Their hand paused just for a breath. In the mirror, their gaze flicked up to meet his.

Erik moved until he stood directly behind them, close enough that his presence seemed to fill the air. He rested one hand on the back of their chair, the other lightly brushing their shoulder as though adjusting a fold in their garment, though there was nothing to fix.

Their lips curved just slightly. "You could simply say you want me to stay."

"That," Erik murmured, leaning closer so his breath warmed their ear, pressing a kiss just below their ear, "would sound like pleading." And a king does not plead, except perhaps in the language only they understood.