He likes to think he wants power for good reasons like to fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research in a more transparent and predictable way, but sometimes he worries that he just wants power so he won't feel trapped like this. He feels desperately trapped. The King is dying and his heir hasn't shown up to court in two years - working on a new spell, of course, and it'll be a brilliant spell, but unless it lets Maitimo impersonate him at state dinners it won't suffice to make up for zero interest in attending them.

"It's all yours," his father says wearily whenever Maitimo raises this.

All Maitimo's. As soon as he gets married. The law's two hundred years old and his father thinks it's ridiculous and yet there it stands.

Plenty of those have been political marriages but all of the participants have been at least willing to feign sincere interest in making children together. 

Fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research and transparency and predictability and pretend to be straight until your hold on power is secure enough.

They talk about it for a couple months. Then there's an ambassadorial dispute that escalates far past the point where it should have and hexes are thrown. And Maitimo's father is trying to learn a spellchart and the guards have been told to bodily stop anyone who interrupts him at his work.

He makes up his mind.

Findekáno, for all he likes to complain that Maitimo can read him like a book, can do nearly the same thing, so when he comes in he stops short at the door and raises an eyebrow and Maitimo is unsure whether he should be grateful that he didn't even have to say anything. 

Then Findekáno kisses him and he wonders if somehow he read him wrong. He turns away. "Need to tell you something."

"Yeah. But once you say it I am going to leave so first shut the fuck up."

"You're not going to change my mind."

"Figured. Want to say goodbye."

So he returns the kiss and then deepens it and when Findekáno glares at him challengingly he removes their clothes.

He waits to say it until much later that evening, when it's been quiet a while and they're lying there holding on too tightly. "I've decided to get married."

"Yeah."

"It is not that I want the crown more than I love you."

"Oh, Maitimo. Of course it is."

"If I thought there was an equally qualified King or that my father was even a marginally qualified King I wouldn't do it and it's definitely not that I don't love you. And I've been miserable ever since I made the decision and I'd be delighted if you came up with another solution and I'm sorry -"

Findekáno starts getting dressed. 

"Once she and I have talked about it, if she turns out to be reasonable about that kind of thing -"

"You'll what, come win me back?"

"Do I have leave to try?"

"It will take a lot of winning."

He smiles weakly. "I'm very winning."

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Don't know."

He likes to think he wants power for good reasons like to fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research in a more transparent and predictable way, but sometimes he worries that he just wants power so he won't feel trapped like this. He feels desperately trapped. The King is dying and his heir hasn't shown up to court in two years - working on a new spell, of course, and it'll be a brilliant spell, but unless it lets Mitros impersonate him at state dinners it won't suffice to make up for zero interest in attending them.

"It's all yours," his father says wearily whenever Mitros raises this.

All Mitros's. As soon as he gets married. The law's two hundred years old and his father thinks it's ridiculous and yet there it stands.

Plenty of those have been political marriages but all of the participants have been at least willing to feign sincere interest in making children together. 

Fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research and transparency and predictability and pretend to be straight until your hold on power is secure enough.

They talk about it for a couple months. Then there's an ambassadorial dispute that escalates far past the point where it should have and hexes are thrown. And Mitros's father is trying to learn a spellchart and the guards have been told to bodily stop anyone who interrupts him at his work.

He makes up his mind.

Finankar, for all he likes to complain that Mitros can read him like a book, can do nearly the same thing, so when he comes in he stops short at the door and raises an eyebrow and Mitros is unsure whether he should be grateful that he didn't even have to say anything. 

Then Finankar kisses him and he wonders if somehow he read him wrong. He turns away. "Need to tell you something."

"Yeah. But once you say it I am going to leave so first shut the fuck up."

"You're not going to change my mind."

"Figured. I can't - stop you from trying. I am not going to help you betray whoever you're trying with. Want to say goodbye."

So he returns the kiss and then deepens it and when Finankar glares at him challengingly he removes their clothes.

He waits to say it until much later that evening, when it's been quiet a while and they're lying there holding on too tightly. "I don't see how I have a choice."

"Yeah."

"It is not that I want the crown more than I love you."

"Oh, Mitros. Of course it is."

"If I thought there was an equally qualified King or that my father was even a marginally qualified King I wouldn't do it. The country not having good leadership isn't something that could weigh too little if I loved you too much. And I've been miserable ever since I made the decision and I'd be delighted if you came up with another solution and I'm sorry -"

Finankar starts getting dressed. 

"Once she and I have talked about it, if she turns out to be reasonable about that kind of thing -"

"You'll what, come win me back?"

"Do I have leave to try?"

"It will take a lot of winning."

He smiles weakly. "I'm very winning."

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Don't know."

He likes to think he wants power for good reasons like to fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research in a more transparent and predictable way, but sometimes he worries that he just wants power so he won't feel trapped like this. He feels desperately trapped. The King is dying and his heir hasn't shown up to court in two years - working on a new spell, of course, and it'll be a brilliant spell, but unless it lets Mitros impersonate him at state dinners it won't suffice to make up for zero interest in attending them.

"It's all yours," his father says wearily whenever Mitros raises this.

All Mitros's. As soon as he gets married. The law's two hundred years old and his father thinks it's ridiculous and yet there it stands.

Plenty of those have been political marriages but all of the participants have been at least willing to feign sincere interest in making children together. 

Fix the canals and solidify decent trade policies and fund magical research and transparency and predictability and pretend to be straight until your hold on power is secure enough.

They talk about it for a couple months. Then there's an ambassadorial dispute that escalates far past the point where it should have and spells are thrown. And Mitros's father is trying to learn a spellchart and the guards have been told to bodily stop anyone who interrupts him at his work.

He makes up his mind.

Finankar, for all he likes to complain that Mitros can read him like a book, can do nearly the same thing, so when he comes in he stops short at the door and raises an eyebrow and Mitros is unsure whether he should be grateful that he didn't even have to say anything. 

Then Finankar kisses him and he wonders if somehow he read him wrong. He turns away. "Need to tell you something."

"Yeah. But once you say it I am going to leave so first shut the fuck up."

"You're not going to change my mind."

"Figured. I can't - stop you from trying. I am not going to help you betray whoever you're trying with. Want to say goodbye."

So he returns the kiss and then deepens it and when Finankar glares at him challengingly he removes their clothes.

He waits to say it until much later that evening, when it's been quiet a while and they're lying there holding on too tightly. "I don't see how I have a choice."

"Yeah."

"It is not that I want the crown more than I love you."

"Oh, Mitros. Of course it is."

"If I thought there was an equally qualified King or that my father was even a marginally qualified King I wouldn't do it. The country not having good leadership isn't something that could weigh too little if I loved you too much. And I've been miserable ever since I made the decision and I'd be delighted if you came up with another solution and I'm sorry -"

Finankar starts getting dressed. 

"Once she and I have talked about it, if she turns out to be reasonable about that kind of thing -"

"You'll what, come win me back?"

"Do I have leave to try?"

"It will take a lot of winning."

He smiles weakly. "I'm very winning."

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Don't know."