agoodyarn | an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

Carcosa was thought to be lost.

There were all manner of myths, all manner of stories; some said that someone with the gift of earthquakes sunk the land into the oceans. Others said that it was lost far earlier, that the city itself slowly died as the continents shifted and the fabled Lake Hali dried up, the country lost to the dunes of the great deserts and unsuited to such an environment. Still others said it was entirely a story, made up, the kind of thing used by ancient travelers to spice up their tales and historical accounts to cover up for the deeds or misdeeds that politics would not allow them to speak of honestly. That last one was the most accepted of the stories, or it was until the headline came out in the Times.

Carcosa is Real! Envoy Arrives at UN!

It was, it turned out, an island nation located in the center of the Atlantic Ocean, far from any of the standard ocean routes and difficult to navigate to given the strangeness of the weather patterns in the area which meddled with magnetic reckoning. As the use of a magnetic compass had risen throughout the world (instead of relying on those with Directional gifts), the island had been 'missed' more and more until it was forgotten, only encountered by the occasional lost ship that by the same misfortune would never be able to find them again. They had become, by no surprise, incredibly isolationist and it was speculated by scientists that the natural energies that caused the anomaly might in fact be the reason why Carcosa was said to have singularly powerful magical gifts in its people and especially in its royal line. Others thought it might be a matter of natural selection or even careful breeding: cut off from the rest of the world and the advancements brought by crossing cultures, Carcosans had only been able to rely on themselves and their gifts, making those with stronger and more useful gifts much more likely to prosper and procreate given the relatively small population. Nevertheless, it turned out that that part of the 'myths' was true: there were a few more articles, later in the paper, discussing the gifts of the Envoy and his crew, all of which were the sort of thing deemed miraculous and even mythical these days. Technology had just made such things more trouble than they were worth, unstable and unreliable and reliant on a single individual; a machine could work for anyone, and science had no favorites.

It was the sort of thing that made magic feel more magical again, really.

And brought on a rush to exploit the island, it's people, and what resources they had which, as it turned out, were extensive. This led to the King closing the port and strictly limiting the interaction between the foreigners and his people. And, of course, to a second arrival in New York City.

King Hastur II himself, younger than anyone expected, unmarried and childless, walking into the UN himself and politely requesting a chair.

...how Daniel Saltzman, a lumber magnate, true, but no one with a title, not a Rockefeller or a Carnegie, managed to get his attention during that visit is anyone's guess. Some of the gossip rags decided it must have been a connection made over a shared tendency towards religion, while others were much more cynical and claimed it was about the money and nothing but the money, that Saltzman was an old traditionalist willing to invest in Carcosa more than the others who'd put their money into steam and electric and gas. No one can agree what it is, but what is evident is that Saltzman offered a husband for the mysterious young king and that said king had accepted.

How his adopted son, Arthur, took the news, well...

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Arthur shakes his head. "Don't say that," he tells him firmly, looking up into the mask. It's easier to dance with him here when he can't see his face or the expressions he makes. "It's not something that happens a lot anymore."

He leads again, though it's subtle, since the moves are practiced and simple. And when it's done, he breaks away, bringing his husband's hand to his lips for a respectful kiss.

He's still pretty expressive even with the mask, used to making his will clear with it on. He looks distinctly confused and yes, a little disappointed.

When the song ends, he also lifts Arthur's hand in turn to press it under the mask before returning it and as the applause starts, he will move to lead Arthur over to the table that Uric has laid out for them, the one at the front of the room and decorated in Carcosan style: gold, jewels, faintly smoking sweet incense, and a great deal of flowers of all types and colors, including flowers that none of the New Yorkers would have ever seen, as fresh and bright as if they were picked that morning.

Uric makes a point to walk around beside Arthur and greet him personally with a nod as he pushes his chair in and then he does the same for Jahn. The two of them have a short conversation in another language before Uric grins and wanders off and Jahn huffs mildly.

"We have a meal to eat and then there will be time to walk around and chat with everyone, apparently."

He tries to ignore the disappointment. It's a common enough occurrence that he can just let it be for now.

He's quiet as Ulric and Jahn talk, but he makes eye contact with Daniel across the room. Arthur looks genuinely distraught, but he knows he'll get to speak with him later. He can fix this.

"You can eat under the mask?" Arthur asks, then laughs a little when he realizes how that might sound. "Sorry."

Jahn had been about to reach over to put a hand gently on Arthur's arm but the question legitimately surprises him.

"...yes." Then, a soft laugh. "I have a lot of practice in wearing it, I assure you."

And the first course will come out, a savory fermented and pickled dish that is obviously a favorite of Jahn's. He smiles over at Arthur.

"The trick with this is not to add any salt. Instead, you have it with the little petals there and the two balance nicely."

He brings it close, along with a couple of other flowers that he wants to look at.

"Thank you," he says, a little surprised but it disappears when he finally takes a bite. It's perfectly blended, which makes him laugh just a little, despite himself.

"Wow. You're right. What is this?"

He looks at it in his hand, tilting his head.

There's the sense that he's beaming behind that mask, the smile radiating out of him.

"Belgma'at Royivmufan. Fermented hyaflowers and pickled petals."

A now-familiar voice from behind them, doing some sort of task, adds-

"He spent two months as a child where he wouldn't eat anything but that until the palace chef nearly quit."

Jahn turns and huffs: "Tu oui ryja du c'dynd fedr dra aspynnyccehk c'duneac?"

Uric's tone is unapologetic.

"Fryd amca tu oui gaab sa ynuiht vun, so gehk?"

Arthur chuckles to himself at the table. "Leave Uric alone," he says to his husband as the second course comes. "He has good stories."

The language is different, but Arthur understands the meaning of it. The feeling of it. That part is important.

"Oh great, now I have two of you to bully me."

But Jahn doesn't sound particularly upset about this. Instead, he turns and continues to enjoy the dish, watching with quiet joy as Arthur eats it as well.

"You really should have checked the fine print if you didn't want to be bullied."

Most of the food is what Arthur enjoys, though he is too full for dessert.

When it's time to mingle, for the other guests to dance, Arthur hesitantly reaches down to take Jahn's hand under the table. "I need to talk to my father," he tells him. "We - can't leave until I do."

"Who said he doesn't want to be bullied, young master?" Uric will add from behind him before serving him the next platter.

But by the time they've gone through the meal, Jahn is feeling very good about everything so when Arthur takes his hand, he blinks and gives it a squeeze in turn.

"Of course."

He'll hold out the key to Arthur.

"Would you like to take this so you can take however long you like? I don't want to make you rush."

There's no real humor behind his smile as he takes the key. "I think I'm done socializing after that anyway," he explains sheepishly.

It's been a long day.

He woke up this morning on the dirty tile floor of a gas station, but at least the day got significantly better.

Jahn will nod and tip his head to the elevator.

"I'll be in the suite when you're ready."

There's a glance between him and Uric before he moves to get going. Best not to watch. This isn't his, after all.

Arthur doesn't spend much time with Daniel because he doesn't need to. As soon as he walks close, Daniel is there for him, gripping his shoulder tightly.

For a moment, everything is still, everything mended, and Arthur, grateful for even the smallest scrap of peace between them bow, places a hand on his.

"I don't know why you did this. But - it's alright," he says softly. It is the closest he can get to an apology and Daniel knows it.

Arthur smiles his way through well wishers and disappears to the elevator, letting out a breath as he does.

The wedding is over. The reception escaped.

Now his wedding night., which is arguably the most terrifying part.

He opens the door to the suite and tosses the key onto a table.

It didn't take long so Jahn hasn't done much. Arthur will find that some incense has been put on, flowers brought up, and Jahn himself is in the bathroom, perched against the bathtub in an elegant curve, naked with his back to the door, braiding flowers into his hair. He turns, a smile on his lips, when Arthur enters.

"That took less time than I thought it might. My apologies for not being finished."

Arthur wanders the room, seeking him out, and then immediately his face blooms into a deep red.

He turns almost immediately, staring hard at the opposite wall.

"Shit. I'm so sorry," he mutters. "I uh...I'll with out here, shall I?"

Wait, what?

He turns a little more, glancing at Arthur.

"...sorry about what?"

He doesn't move, because he's almost done with this braid and they're fiddly. He could use his gift to make them perfect, but that doesn't seem in the spirit of the thing.

"You don't have to wait. Do you need the room, Arthur?"

"No, I don't. I just - I need a moment, alright?"

He walks off to the main room and sits, scrubbing his face with his hands.

He can't do this. It isn't - well, it isn't decent!

He frowns, but he'll keep doing what he's doing; after all, he can hardly present himself to his new husband if he isn't made up appropriately for the wedding night. Once he's done, though, he'll don the golden nets he'd knotted together for his wedding night and drape them over his body.

Then he will go to find his husband.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looks up and immediately past him, closing his eyes as he sinks into the couch.

"Hello, Jahn," he mutters. "I - what's this about?"

He frowns as he sees where Arthur's eyes are going and some panic will light in his own. Does- is he not- why is he looking away?

"What is what about, Arthur? I... said I was sorry about not being finished. But everything is prepared now. You... don't have to look away."

"Jahn," he says. "You are - god...you are very, very handsome. And charming. But I haven't - I haven't so much as looked at another person naked in a while. And this is - I don't know what you're expecting."

That has him looking up with a start.

"I should hope you haven't looked at anyone else naked," he says, and that is definitely a bit of a harumph. But it's clear he has no idea what this has to do with this evening.

"What do you think I'm expecting?"

"Everybody looks, Jahn!" he mutters, then opens his eyes to look at him. He really is beautiful, and Arthur finds himself drawn to his face in particular. Perhaps because it is so rare.

"And I don't know. What everyone does on their wedding night."

"There's looking and then there's looking, thank you very much."

Huff. But he shakes that off before raising an eyebrow.

"So why is it, exactly, that you 'don't know' what I'm expecting if you think I'm expecting what 'everyone does' on their wedding night?"

He doesn't look annoyed, just puzzled.

Edited 2025-11-26 00:03 (UTC)

He finally sits up, grumbling. "Would you just tell me?" he mutters, now more annoyed than embarrassed. It does mean that he is sitting and watching him, meeting his eyes instead of squirming in his seat. "Jesus Christ."

an arranged marriage for ceaselesslabor

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