Chapter Text
“The next boxes of letters, sire.”
Lewis smiled at Bono’s tone, it promised a long afternoon, “You’re helping me.”
“Of course, sire."
Lewis shook his head and started looking through the latest batch that Bono had gathered for him. Lewis had decided from a young age that if he was going to have an arranged marriage, he was going to arrange it himself. He’d been prince and heir back then, now he was King of Stevenage, the youngest monarch of any known kingdom, and still without a spouse. It was why he received so many letters each month, extolling virtues and hoping for an invite to his castle.
It could be difficult, endless, work, especially when Lewis received multiple letters from the same heirs, hoping to persuade him to spend time with them. But it was work he believed in and work that he had grown skilled at out of necessity, learning how to spot the lies, half-truths, and the worst kinds of intentions. He was always scrupulously polite; he had no wish to start a war over a perceived insult. But Lewis knew he had to choose a spouse that was right for him as well as right for the kingdom. He had no wish to be like his parents.
Roscoe padded across the room and settled at his master’s feet. It never failed to make Lewis smile, as Bono signalled for another box of letters to be brought to Lewis’s desk. Lewis’s smile widened at a letter from Prince Daniel of Perth, it was genial and amusing, as always. Daniel had written before, initially to let Lewis know that while it would be an honour to become King Lewis’s spouse, he’d been permitted to marry for love so he was going to keep looking for that. Lewis wasn’t offended; he’d met Daniel several times and while he'd always enjoyed the prince's company, he'd never felt even a spark of attraction. He’d met many heirs like that but they would claim in their letters that they felt a connection to him and his kingdom. They rarely got invited for a visit, unless politics demanded it for politeness sake.
“Invite Prince Daniel to dinner soon,” Lewis noted, setting the letter aside. “Unrelated to my search.”
Several letters told Lewis who had recently gotten married or engaged, all of which Bono noted for future reference. Lewis was not going to break up anyone’s engagement, no matter how he was encouraged to by those with secretive motivations. Bono noted those letters too. The books he filled were invaluable.
There was a shyly-sweet letter from Prince Alex, mentioning his recent engagement to Princess Lily and thanking Lewis for the last time he’d invited them both on a hunt. Lily had especially enjoyed herself.
“Draft congratulations to be sent to Prince Alex and Princess Lily on their engagement, and an engagement present, maybe a couple of horses.”
“Sire.”
After an hour of reading letters, and finding a couple from suitors he might ask for a visit, Lewis called for sweet wine and a break. He took several deep breaths. Bono was writing more notes, Lewis knew what he was thinking.
“It would not have been better if I had married Nico.”
Bono nodded, “It would have been easier, sire.”
Lewis smiled widely, raising his glass, “Until one of us had killed the other.”
Bono smiled slightly, “Until then, sire.”
Lewis chuckled as he sipped his wine, contemplating the letters. The next envelope was heavier than expected. Lewis raised an eyebrow, hearing a wooden click as he pulled the paper closer. He was often sent gifts to entice him to a particular kingdom for his spouse search. It was never anything that could fit into an envelope though.
When Lewis opened up the paper, he found the expected letter and two framed oval portraits small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Before he could properly inspect them, he spied a note written on the outside of the letter - Please read this first.
“Who delivered this letter?” he asked Bono.
Bono briefly checked his book, “It’s from Norfolk, sire.”
Norfolk. The monarchs there had three children, the eldest two were already engaged, which only left the youngest.
“Prince George?” Lewis guessed as he unfolded the letter.
Your Highness,
I hope this letter finds you well, and finds you happy. This is the first time my parents have permitted me to write my own letter. It may interest you to know that you are the only person I am writing to.
Lewis smiled slightly in disbelief. The tone was confident, especially for someone so young. Lewis had made it clear that he didn’t accept suits from anyone who wasn’t of age. Of course court advisors were known to write letters on behalf of suitors anyway.
Lewis had only vague memories of Prince George, and that was from when he had been much younger. Prince George’s family had suggested their oldest child, Benjy, to Lewis a few years ago but Lewis had felt no great connection and had been pleased to hear of Benjy’s engagement.
I know how many people write to you, and it truly would be a great honour to be chosen to spend time with you away from the futile hope of balls and weddings where everyone wishes a moment of your time. So I have compiled a list of reasons why I should be granted this honour.
Lewis’s disbelief grew but he couldn’t help chuckling. He could honestly say he’d never received a letter like it. It was unabashed in it’s aims but, so far, in a straightforward manner instead of an off-putting one.
My parents have always been honest in telling myself and my siblings that we should make the best match possible for Norwich. But they also have no wish for any of us to be trapped in unhappy empty marriages, their hope is that we will at least be friends with our spouses. I would come to any marriage with no illusions - a marriage is an agreement between two people, not to love, but to respect and honour, to be open to any affection that forms, and to be loyal to each other above all else and to the kingdom they marry into as well as their own.
Lewis found himself nodding along. It was a clear and practical attitude, surprisingly mature for someone so young. Lewis already found himself hoping against this being the work of anyone but Prince George.
I remember seeing you at King Nico’s crowning and admiring your black and silver clothing. I’d been told that no one wore their doubles with narrow shoulders but you did and everyone spoke of how well you looked. I was aware of people talking about you a lot that day but you never looked as though it affected you. You effortlessly carried the scrutiny on your narrow shoulders. I admired that, I still do.
Lewis didn’t remember seeing George then. He remembered being aware of the constant buzz of gossip and the slight dull pain of seeing Vivian standing alongside Nico while he was crowned. But he had been truly happy for his friend as well, because Nico was truly happy, that was what Lewis wanted for him. He could hurt due to not being the person married to Nico as well as happy for his friend finding the right person for himself and for Wiesbaden.
George’s description of the day was delicate, not ladelling on false gleeful sympathy, and it was honest. Lewis smiled, conjuring up a younger George watching him from the edge of a crowd, admiring his clothing but seeing more than that. He had obviously been perceptive from a young age.
It goes without saying that I have been raised to rule, as spouse and heir. But I will say it anyway. I have no aversion to moving to Stevenage, though I’d hope to still see Norwich from time to time. It is my home and while I’ve always known I might leave it some day, I have not grown bored of it yet. I think you’d like the rivers here, I’ve spent many hours boating and several in the water, not always intentionally. Being on a river here remains a favourite pastime for me, the ability to either race or idle appeals to me greatly. I think you would enjoy either too, and I would like to be with you to confirm this.
George’s confidence and humour continued to make Lewis smile. Lewis found himself anticipating what else was to come.
I leave you with two glimpses into my being that might set the tone for future conversations. Firstly, this is not known beyond my kingdom, except by my two closest friends Prince Alex of London and Princess Lando of Bristol, but I have for some years been keeping bees. I find it a complicated and absorbing hobby and none at the castle complain about the sweet combs given to the kitchen.
And secondly, the portraits. One is a recent likeness of myself. I think it has come out well and find it a close resemblance. The second is an image of my hound, Toby. He hunts with me and has been a close companion for many years. He is known to be friendly and enthusiastic, and is always interested in a chase.
I hope I will see you in silver and black again, narrow shoulders or not, and that even if my letter isn’t to your liking, you might share a moment with me in person, at whatever crowning, ball or wedding we both next attend.
Kindest regards
Lewis’s fingers grazed Prince George ’s inked signature. After a thoughtful moment, he turned his attention to the portraits. In Prince George’s portrait, he wasn’t smiling and the confidence of his letter was very present. He was young-looking and Lewis wondered if the portrait was as accurate as Prince George claimed. There was a cool beauty to Prince George, though his letter was much warmer. It seemed to glimmer with smiles. Lewis hoped that was accurate.
The portrait of the dog made him laugh. Toby was an Irish setter, with what appeared to be a glossy russett coat. Lewis gazed down at Roscoe, contentedly lying at his feet. Roscoe generally got on well with other dogs, as long as they didn’t try to challenge him. Lewis stroked a toe along Roscoe’s side.
“Roscoe,” he called down sharply enough to get the dog’s attention, he offered the dog’s portrait down. “What do you think of Toby?”
Roscoe looked at the portrait and made a rumbling sort of sound, almost a bark, then butted his head against the frame. Lewis laughed, that wasn’t disapproval. Struck by an impish thought, Lewis offered Prince George’s portrait down next.
“And what do you think of Prince George?”
Roscoe cocked his head this time, before making the rumbling barking sound again. Lewis nodded with a grin and laid the two portraits down on the desk in front of him. He touched the black frame of Prince George’s portrait and looked over the letter again. Rereading it made him smile even more.
“Bono, we’ll invite Prince George,” he said decisively.
“Very good, sire. A day visit?”
Lewis didn’t lift his gaze from the portraits, “To start with.”
He looked up when Bono didn’t answer. His steward was writing, smiling in a way that signalled quiet happiness.
“Is Prince George a preference?” Lewis guessed with humour because he knew what Bono’s answer would be.
“I don’t have a preference, sire.”
Lewis smiled, yes, that was what Bono always said. He didn’t like to influence Lewis’s decision, knowing how important it was for Lewis to make the choice himself. Still, Lewis valued Bono’s advice above almost everyone else’s, and he knew when Bono felt something was going well. He never usually wore such a happy expression when discussing Lewis’s suitor letters.
“Does James have a preference?” Lewis suggested.
Bono’s smile tilted up at his husband’s name, “Always, sire.”
Lewis laughed, “In this?”
“He hasn’t mentioned Prince George, no.”
Lewis sat back for a moment, his gaze measuring his steward. “You’re pleased about something.”
His tone plainly stated he expected an answer of some kind without evasion. Bono finished his writing and set the book down to allow the ink to dry. He considered his words before speaking, as Lewis knew he would.
“It has been some time since any suitor’s letter has made you smile so much, sire.”
And Bono found that pleasing. Lewis smiled softly, and nodded. Bono wasn’t exaggerating. The letters could sometimes be distasteful or dishonest, though a number were usually interesting reads. But Lewis couldn’t say when he had last felt such delight and intrigue.
He looked down again at George’s portrait, and at the letter beside it. He hoped both were accurate.