Chapter Nine
That afternoon, Darragh couldn’t focus on the correspondence spread across his desk. His mind kept drifting back to lunch, to the feel of Finn’s hand in his, to the way Finn had finally stopped pulling away.
I’m so freaking glad I was right, he thought, leaning his chin on his hand, his elbow planted on the desk. He said the words. He likes me back. His only concern is letting me down…which means he really does like me.
Darragh was so incredibly happy about that. As soon as he’d seen Finn at their dinner together that first night, his mind was made up. Finn really was as authentic as Darragh had hoped he would be. And that meant the next step was obvious. Darragh wanted to marry him.
The realization hit him hard because he felt he could finally acknowledge it.
He, Darragh the man, wanted to marry Finn.
Not because his advisers thought a king should be married.
Not because there may or may not be more perceived stability for his country at the summit.
No, Darragh wanted to marry Finn because the man made him laugh, challenged him, and, more importantly, saw him as a man first before he saw the crown.
It was clear from all the things Finn said and hadn’t said in three days that he’d have been happy with Darragh if he owned a local drinking establishment or worked in the shipbuilding yard, and that was priceless in itself.
As for Darragh, he realized he wanted Finn, purely and simply, because the thought of Finn leaving at the end of a week made his chest tight and his heart hurt.
Which is the perfect reason for getting married. Darragh was sure of it. He had found his person at last, and he wasn’t going to lose Finn because of protocol or anything else. Before he second-guessed himself, he pushed away from his desk and went to find Helena.
She was in her office, surrounded by her usual chaos of papers and ledgers. She looked up when he entered, taking one look at his face before setting down her pen.
“You’ve decided then.”
“Yes. I want to propose to Finn.”
Helena’s eyebrows rose. “Propose? Darragh, we don’t do proposals anymore.
You know that. A marriage contract is drawn up between the two families or parties.
In this case, since you have the higher rank, you would present a contract to Finn outlining the terms of the marriage.
His family would review it, negotiate if needed, and then both parties would sign. ”
“I know the protocol.” Darragh crossed his arms. “But I don’t care. This is something I remember my late father talking about years ago - back when I was a child. He proposed to my mother, and I want to propose to Finn properly, in the old way.”
“The old way.” Helena stared at him. “As in, historically old? Before the World Council standardized marriage contracts?”
“Exactly.”
“Darragh…”
“Finn deserves something special, Helena. Something unexpected.” Darragh started pacing - his nervous energy from worrying he couldn’t make himself understood needed an outlet.
“If you think about it, every single thing about us has been unconventional. He’s a fifth son with no court training who fixes roofs.
I’m a king who greets merchants at the harbor.
Why should our marriage be something we do strictly by the book? ”
Helena was quiet for a moment. Then she sighed and pulled out a book from the shelf behind her. “You’re absolutely certain about this?”
“Completely.”
“And you understand that after the proposal, you’ll still need to work out the contract details with him? The proposal doesn’t replace that legal requirement.”
“Yes, yes. We’ll handle all that afterward. But first, I want to do this right.” Darragh stopped pacing. “What did proposals look like? Historically?”
Helena pulled out her reading glasses and began flipping through the ledger. “Let me check the World Council archives. There should be records, especially if your father did it...” she muttered to herself as she scanned pages, occasionally making notes.
Darragh waited, his excitement building.
Finally, Helena looked up. “According to historical records, a traditional proposal involved the offering party - that’s you - getting down on one knee.”
“On one knee?”
“That’s what it says. The offering party would kneel before the other person as a sign of respect and affection, indicating that, despite their higher rank or position, they were humbling themselves to ask for the other’s hand.
” Helena adjusted her glasses. “Then you would present a ring in a box. It was called an engagement ring or promise ring, meant to symbolize your commitment and intention to marry.”
Darragh grinned. “That sounds perfect.”
“It sounds very irregular,” Helena said dryly. “A king does not get down on one knee to anyone.”
“That’s exactly why it’s perfect, and it’s not like I’d do it for just anybody. Just Finn.” Darragh could already picture it. “Can you find a suitable ring? And a box?”
“You want me to…” Helena shook her head. “Of course you do. It’s not as if you can just pop down to the jewelers and pick out something for yourself. Do you have any preferences for the ring?”
Darragh thought about it. “It can’t be too flashy. Finn wouldn’t want something ostentatious. But it has to be well-made. Solid. Like him.”
Helena made a note. “I’ll see what I can arrange. When are you planning this...proposal?”
“Tonight. After dinner.”
“Tonight?” Helena’s pen stopped mid-stroke. “Darragh, that gives me approximately six hours to find a historically appropriate engagement ring and a presentation box.”
“Is that a problem?” They had a really good jeweler in town, and surely finding a box couldn’t be that difficult.
She gave him a long look, then sighed again. “For you? Apparently not. I’ll make it happen.”
“Thank you, Helena.”
“You’re welcome.” She waved him toward the door. “Now go and find something else to do so I can work miracles.”
/~/~/~/~/
Dinner felt like it was taking forever. Darragh kept the conversation light, discussing plans for the next day and asking Finn more about his family in Winrone.
The ring box felt as if it were burning a hole in his jacket pocket.
Helena had delivered it an hour before dinner with a knowing look and instructions not to drop it in the fountain.
The ring had been a perfect choice for a man like Finn. It was a simple band of silver with a single blue stone, the color of Safe Harbor’s flag. It was traditional, but not fussy - just like Finn.
“You’re distracted tonight,” Finn observed, setting down his fork.
“Am I?”
“You just agreed that purple carrots would make an excellent addition to the castle menu.”
Darragh blinked. “I did?”
Finn grinned. “I was testing you, to see if you were paying attention to me. Where’s your mind at?”
“Thinking about what comes after dinner.”
“Ooh, should I be worried?”
“No.” Darragh pushed back from the table. “Actually, yes. Maybe. I’m not sure.” He stood and offered his hand. “Walk with me?”
Finn took his hand without hesitation, and that simple trust made Darragh’s heart skip a beat. They walked through the castle corridors in comfortable silence, Darragh leading them toward his mother’s garden.
The evening air was cool, and the wild garden was bathed in twilight. Lanterns had been lit along the paths. Darragh suspected that was Helena’s doing. The woman could be sharp tongued at times, but she thought of everything.
“This is my favorite spot in the whole castle,” Darragh said as they walked deeper into the garden.
“I can see why. Your mother had good taste.”
“She did.” Darragh led them to a small clearing where a stone bench sat beneath an old oak tree.
His mother had loved the spot, and for a brief moment, Darragh wondered if this was the same spot his father had proposed to her.
“She told me once that real love wasn’t about finding someone perfect.
It was about finding someone whose imperfections fit with yours. ”
Finn sat on the bench, looking up at him. “She sounds like she was an incredible woman.”
Darragh’s hand went to the ring box in his pocket.
His heart was pounding, which was absolutely ridiculous.
He’d faced down hostile nobles, negotiated with pirates, and once punched a visiting duke who’d insulted his sister.
Of course, he’d been a lot younger then, but why was a simple matter of asking Finn a question so terrifying?
Because it matters, he realized, because Finn matters.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” Darragh started. “About being afraid of letting me down.”
“Darragh…”
“Let me finish, please.” He pulled out the ring box, watching Finn’s eyes widen. “I know the proper way to do this is through contracts, and all that other stuff. And we’ll do all that. But first, I wanted to do something that was just for us.”
Darragh got down on one knee, and Finn’s hand flew to his mouth.
“This is a proposal,” Darragh said, opening the box to reveal the ring.
“The old-fashioned kind, from before the World Council standardized everything. Back when marriage was about two people choosing each other instead of families arranging contracts.” His hands were shaking slightly.
“I’m asking you, Finn. Not Lord Finn, son of the Earl of Winrone.
Just Finn, who fixes roofs, tells me the truth and makes me laugh. Will you marry me?”
Finn was crying, actual tears streaming down his face.
Panic shot through Darragh. “Is that a no? Because I can…”
“You got on your knee.” Finn’s voice was choked. “You’re a king, and you got on your knee for me.”
“Well, historically that’s what…”
“Yes.”
Darragh froze. “Yes?” That’s what he’d been waiting for, right?
“Yes, I’ll marry you.” Finn was laughing and crying at the same time. “You ridiculous, wonderful, completely insane man. Yes.”
What a freaking relief. Nothing Helena had told him had prepared Darragh for the terror around the asking and the sheer relief and pure joy that flooded through Darragh’s body at being told yes.
He fumbled with the ring, nearly dropping it twice before managing to slide it onto Finn’s finger.
Then he stood, pulling Finn up with him and into his arms.
Finn was still crying into his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you proposed,” Finn said, his voice muffled by Darragh’s jacket. “I thought we’d just sign contracts and that would be it.”
“We’ll still do that. Helena was very clear about the legal requirements.” Darragh pulled back enough to see Finn’s face. “But I wanted you to have this. Something special. Something just for us.”
Finn looked at the ring on his finger, turning his hand to catch the lantern light. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not too flashy?”
“Perfect.” Finn met his eyes. “You’re sure about this? About me?”
“Completely.” Darragh cupped Finn’s face in his hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
“I’m going to mess up at court events.”
“Probably.”
“I’ll say the wrong thing to important dignitaries.”
“Almost certainly.”
“I’ll embarrass you…”
Darragh kissed him.
It was soft and gentle, a promise instead of a demand, which in Darragh’s head was perfect for their first kiss. Finn made a small, surprised sound and then melted into it, his hands fisting in Darragh’s jacket.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Darragh rested his forehead against Finn’s.
“You could never embarrass me,” Darragh said quietly. “You could tell the entire World Council exactly what you think of their latest trade regulations, and that they were all ugly to boot, and I’d still be proud to have you beside me.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“Probably.” Darragh grinned. “But you see my point.”
Finn laughed, still crying, but he was laughing, too. “I see your point.”
Darragh felt something settle in his chest, a rightness he’d never experienced before, and he held onto Finn probably for a lot longer than might be considered proper.
“We should probably head back,” Finn said eventually. “People will talk.”
“Let them talk.” But Darragh stepped back, keeping hold of Finn’s hand. “You know Helena will want to start on the contract details tomorrow.”
“What even goes into a marriage contract?”
“Everything. Your rank increases to king consort - that’s guaranteed. We’ll need to decide on the fidelity clause, the piss-off clause, living arrangements, responsibilities...” Darragh started walking, guiding them back toward the castle. “It’s actually quite involved.”
“The what-what clause?”
“Piss-off clause.” Darragh explained the World Council’s policy, watching Finn’s eyes grow wider.
“So if you break the fidelity agreement, I could take everything from you?”
“Theoretically. Though it wouldn’t apply once we’re intimate.” Darragh was sure his cheeks were bright red. “The World Council decided that once a couple has been physically intimate, the piss-off clause no longer applies.”
Finn was quiet for a moment. “Are all marriage contracts this complicated?”
“Usually more so. Especially for royal families.” Darragh squeezed his hand. “But we’ll work through it together. Helena will help.”
“Of course she will. She probably already has a draft prepared.”
“Almost certainly.” Darragh laughed. “She’s very efficient.”
They reached the castle entrance, and Darragh paused. “Are you happy?”
Finn looked at him, at the ring on his finger, then back at Darragh. “Terrified. Excited. Completely overwhelmed.” He smiled. “But yes. I’m happy.”
“Good.” Darragh kissed him again, quick and sweet. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”
“I can think of worse fates.”
They walked into the castle hand in hand, and Darragh caught sight of Helena watching from a corridor window.
She gave him a satisfied nod before disappearing.
Tomorrow, they’d deal with all the boring stuff that would make their marriage legal under World Council protocol.
Tomorrow, Finn would probably panic again about his suitability for court life.
Tomorrow, they’d start planning how to navigate the summit together.
But tonight, Finn had said yes. Tonight, Darragh had someone who saw him as the man and not the crown, and chose him anyway.
Everything else we’ll just figure out as we go.