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So, if Edarial wasn't sure that his wife hated him before, he's really, really sure of it now. It's pretty usual that if they're in the same room, he feels nothing but silent, seething hostility from her. Usually, his reaction to this is a poker face followed by running. He doesn't like having someone hostile just - there at the dinner table, glaring at him with her hissing familiar.

Zevros doesn't hate him, Edarial's certain of it, but he's not helping. He's literally never seen his twin this angry before. This is coming from someone who has seen his twin be angry loads of times. At meals, he just - sits there. Stabbing his food and glaring at Edarial while he does it. He gets why, he knows that Zevros is furious with him for the whole 'cold political marriage' thing. It still hurts, though, to have his immediate family just be so openly hostile.

He gets more withdrawn. Meals get delivered to his room rather than him eating with Iobel and Zevros right there, being near-openly hostile. He stops sparring with Zevros nearly entirely, spends an unhealthy amount of time in either his office or his room, and Berathyme spends all her time coiled around his shoulders, offering what little comfort she can.

She's pretty terrible at advice, but at least he has someone that doesn't actively hate him nearby.

He throws himself into being a king, gets lots of things done, and is generally considered by the public to be good at it. A good king. It's sort of tainted by bitterness, now. But the country does not fall apart, it does not break down into civil war - he handles it. The education system gets a shove in the right direction, the canals get cleaned up, various unemployed people get jobs. He wonders what on earth he's done wrong when he's doing good in the world, but he supposes it doesn't matter.

He knew what he was getting himself into, when he made this choice. He knew that Zevros would be upset with him. Maybe to the point where their camaraderie will just never recover. He doesn't know. From the beginning, he knew that he'd be shackled to someone he doesn't love. Edarial hadn't been expecting the random hatred from his new wife, but he certainly wasn't expecting to be happy.

Just, well. He wasn't expecting to be so miserable, either.

It shows, the misery. Dark circles under his eyes, the withdrawn, blank expression, unkempt hair. He loses some weight due to skipping meals just to avoid his close family. Or, other times, he just forgets, burying himself in work so he doesn't have to think 'What did I do?' over and over again.

But he's a good king. So that's something.
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Iobel keeps Cricket close to her at all times. He sleeps in her bed, sits at her feet or in her lap, is carried in her arms or drapes himself over her shoulder.

No one is teaching her to be a queen, so she figures it out herself.

She didn't want it but she's willing to use it. I am the queen. Explain to me this. I am the queen. Have that arranged. I am the queen. Fetch me this. I am the queen. Leave me alone.

She moves in her stuff. She sells the excess hexes to a small outfit that does mail-orders. She goes to meals and looks for things that could use someone who can say I am the queen, do as I say.

And whenever her husband is about she glares at him, and Cricket hisses, but he doesn't compound his crimes any further, so there's that.
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Eventually, months after their marriage, there is a knock on Iobel's door. Not unusual, in itself, except for who's outside it.

It's her husband, looking like he doesn't want to be here but is duty bound anyway.
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Iobel opens the door, finds herself speechless, and winds up just sort of staring at him.

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"Hello," he says. "... May I come in?"

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"What do you want?"

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He sighs, closing his eyes. "To discuss a subject I've been avoiding for months?"

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"Fine."

She stands aside. Cricket hisses at him from her shoulder.
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He's not even angry, he just gives Cricket a sad, resigned look. In he goes. He finds a seat, carefully sits, and then says quietly, "Would you like me to be gentle, or frank?"

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"Frank."

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"Okay. We need heirs."

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"You weren't really thinking this part through when you proposed, were you."

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She gets a confused look. "... Er? It was something I thought about and was not looking forward to?"

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"Ah, of course, my mistake."

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"Am I missing something?"

He sounds genuinely confused.
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"A conscience?" she suggests.

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"It's intact and present, thank you," says Edarial, dryly.

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"What a pity that I know no spell to empirically settle the disagreement."

Cricket murmurs something in her ear and she murmurs back, stroking his fur.
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Edarial stares at her.

"... Okay. Second thing I've been avoiding talking about, but we obviously need to. What in the world did I do to you? Why are you so - dead set on hating me?"

His voice breaks, just a little, on the last few syllables. Berathyme uncurls from his shoulders and relocates herself to his lap, looking at both Cricket and Iobel with judgemental eyes.
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"Are you sufficiently sociopathic that you haven't a clue why I'd be upset with you?"

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"Was it the letter? The interview? It was cold, and impersonal, I'll admit, but not - worthy of such - such resolute hatred! What did I do?!"

This is probably the most emotion he's displayed to her in all of their months of being married. He looks frustrated, hurt, and confused.
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"It was poisoning and kidnapping my cat!"

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Edarial stares.

"... I beg your pardon?"

He sounds like he's never heard of this before in his life.
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She stares at him.

Cricket snarls something.

She asks him a question.

He pauses, then answers.

She says, "Did you send me a strongly worded letter before that demanding that I show up here?"
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"... Um. No? Why would I demand that you show up here?"

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Iobel puts Cricket on her shoulder so her hands will be free to dig through her old notebooks.

She retrieves the original letter, in his handwriting, commanding her presence.
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