Chapter Ten
Finn stared at the pile of parchment on Helena’s desk and wondered if marriage contracts were measured by weight rather than number of pages.
“This is all for us?” He looked at Darragh, who’d settled into the chair beside him with far too much comfort for someone facing a mountain of legal documentation. But then, for Darragh, it was probably normal for him.
“It’s a standard royal marriage contract.” Helena tapped the stack with one finger. “I’ve seen longer.”
“How is that even possible?” Finn had never seen that many papers outside of a library or a bookshop.
“King Bryce’s contract included seventeen pages on acceptable grooming standards for his spouse’s horses.” Darragh grinned. “Seventeen. Pages.”
“I only have the one horse, and he’s still in Winrone. I’m sure a stall with the other horses in the royal stable will be fine.”
“Then we’ll skip that section.” Helena pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped her quill. “Let’s start with the basics. Finn, upon marriage you’ll be elevated to king consort with all the rights and privileges therein. That’s nonnegotiable and guaranteed by World Council law.”
“What does that actually mean?”
“It means you outrank everyone except Darragh.” Helena didn’t look up from her writing. “You’ll have authority to make decisions on behalf of the kingdom, access to the treasury, and the right to attend all council meetings.”
Finn’s stomach dropped. “All of them?”
“You don’t have to attend.” Darragh leaned back in his chair. “But you can if you want. Or you can send your regrets and work on village projects instead.”
“Can I put that in the contract?”
Helena’s quill paused. “Put what in the contract?”
“That I can still help people with repairs and building projects.” Finn sat forward. “In the city here or back in Winrone. I don’t want to just sit around being decorative.”
“You could never be just decorative.” Darragh’s voice was warm as he teased. “You fidget too much.”
“I’m serious. If I’m going to be stuck in formal clothes all day every day, I’ll lose my mind within a week.”
“Stuck in formal clothes?” Helena raised an eyebrow. “There’s no requirement that the king consort wear formal attire at all times.”
“There isn’t?” Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“No. Though court functions obviously require proper dress.”
Finn looked at Darragh. “You wear that style of coat every single day.”
“I like this style of coat.”
“It has to have something like seventeen buttons.”
“Sixteen. I counted.” Darragh grinned. “And I don’t wear it when I go down to the harbor. I usually end up helping load crates, and the damn thing gets in the way.”
Finn pictured Darragh hauling cargo in his shirtsleeves and felt something warm unfurl in his gut. “So I can add a clause about continuing practical work?”
“If it makes you happy.” Helena was already writing. “Though I’ll phrase it more formally. Something about maintaining community outreach through direct assistance with infrastructure projects.”
“That sounds better than ‘Finn gets to fix roofs.’”
“Significantly.” Helena’s lips twitched. “What else?”
Finn glanced at Darragh, who nodded encouragingly. “One day off a week. Together. Where we don’t have to be king and king consort. Just...us.”
“I was going to insist on that anyway.” Darragh shifted in his chair. “One full day where we can do absolutely nothing if we want. Or anything. Whatever we feel like.”
“That’s actually reasonable.” Helena made another note. “I’ll specify that barring emergencies, you’re both to have one uninterrupted day per week for personal time. Together.”
“Can it be Thursdays?” Finn asked.
Darragh blinked. “Why Thursdays?”
“I don’t know. Thursdays feel underappreciated.”
“Most people choose the weekend.”
“Everyone expects important things on weekends. Parties, events, and ceremonies, we’ll probably have to attend. But Thursday? Nobody plans anything important on a Thursday, so no one will have an excuse to stop our day off.”
Darragh laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. “Helena, put down Thursdays.”
“Thursdays.” Helena somehow managed to look both exasperated and amused. “Moving on. Living arrangements. The king consort traditionally has their own suite of rooms connected to the king’s chambers, but you’re obviously welcome to share quarters if you prefer.”
Finn felt heat creep up his neck. “We haven’t really discussed...”
“Separate rooms to start.” Darragh’s voice was gentle. “Connected definitely. So we have options.”
“Options are good.” Finn swallowed hard and tried not to think about Darragh in a state of undress.
“Options are very good.” Darragh met his eyes. Oh my goodness, is he thinking about that too?
Helena cleared her throat. “Now for the more complex clauses. The fidelity agreement. This isn’t required, but many couples choose to include it. Essentially, both parties agree not to engage in intimate relations with anyone outside the marriage.”
The room fell quiet.
Finn twisted the engagement ring on his finger. They’d barely kissed, barely knew each other beyond four days of dinners and conversations. But the thought of Darragh with someone else made him feel uncomfortable.
“I know you’re the king, and it’s up to you. But I want it.” The words came out rougher than he intended. “The fidelity clause. I always thought if I got married, I would want that in the contract.”
Darragh’s hand found his under the table. “So do I.”
“You’re certain?” Helena looked between them. “It’s binding. If either of you breaks it, the other can bring the case to the World Council. The penalties are severe.”
“I’m certain.” Darragh squeezed Finn’s hand. “I don’t want anyone else. I won’t want anyone else.”
Finn’s throat felt tight. “Neither will I.”
Helena studied them both for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll include a comprehensive fidelity clause. Which brings us to the piss-off clause.”
“The what-what clause.” Finn tried not to laugh at the absurdly official way Helena said “piss-off.”
“If either party breaks the fidelity agreement before consummating the marriage, the offended party can invoke the piss-off clause and claim, essentially, everything. Titles, properties, wealth. The offender is usually left with nothing and shunned by society.” Helena set down her quill.
“It’s meant to prevent abuse and protect the vulnerable party in a marriage contract. ”
Darragh leaned forward. “But it only applies before intimacy?”
“Correct. Once a couple has been intimate - and the World Council has very specific definitions of what constitutes intimacy - the piss-off clause no longer applies. The marriage can’t be dissolved except under extreme circumstances.
You could stop living together, and that’s allowed, but Darragh, you’d always be responsible for looking after Finn until death. ”
Finn looked at Darragh. “So if we don’t include it, and one of us does break the fidelity agreement...”
“The other person would be stuck in the marriage with no recourse except appealing to the World Council for extreme circumstances, which is nearly impossible to prove.” Helena’s expression was serious. “The piss-off clause gives you protection. I’d recommend including it.”
“We won’t need it,” Darragh said the words with such certainty that Finn stared at him.
“You don’t know that. We barely know each other.”
“I know enough.” Darragh turned to face him fully.
“You’re too honest to cheat on me, and do you honestly think I would do that to you when you’re the first and only person who’s interested me in years?
” He smiled. “Besides, I know that if you’re worried about breaking my heart, that means you won’t do anything to hurt me or our relationship. ”
Finn’s eyes burned. “What if I let you down some other way?”
“Those things we’ll figure out together. Without threatening to take everything from each other.” Darragh looked at Helena. “Leave out the piss-off clause.”
“Are you certain? Both of you?”
Finn thought about it. About the man beside him who’d kneeled in front of him and held out a ring. A man who agreed that Thursdays were the perfect day for them to be together all day, no matter what. A man who was looking at him now as if he mattered more than any crown or title.
“Leave it out.” Finn’s voice was steady. “We won’t need it.”
Helena made a note. “Very well. Though I’ll point out you’re both either very confident or very foolish.”
“Probably both.” Darragh grinned. “Anything else we need to cover?”
“Actually, yes. Several things.” Helena pulled out another sheet. “Responsibilities and duties, financial arrangements, succession planning - though your nephew covers that - protocol expectations, staff management, official correspondence...”
“Can I have input on hiring decisions?” Finn interrupted. “For castle staff?”
“Of course. You’ll be managing the household.”
“I will?” Finn hadn’t been expecting that.
“Someone has to.” Darragh looked far too amused. “I hate dealing with the housekeeper. She terrifies me.”
“The housekeeper - that really nice lady I met the other day? She terrifies you?” Sometimes Finn wondered if he’d ever understand the man who was about to become his husband.
“She was on her best behavior because you were a guest. Mrs. Donnelly has been here since my father’s time. She once made me stand in the corner for tracking mud through the east wing. I was twenty-eight at the time.”
Finn laughed. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”
“Famous last words.” But Darragh was smiling.
They worked through the rest of the contract details - financial provisions, official duties, household management, protocol expectations.
Helena insisted on including a clause about appropriate behavior at state functions, which Finn accepted with only minimal grumbling.
Darragh added a provision ensuring Finn could visit Winrone whenever he wanted, and that he would accompany him when official duties allowed.
“Is that everything?” Finn’s hand cramped from signing his initials on what felt like every third line.
“Almost.” Helena pulled out one final document. “The timeline. The wedding needs to happen within three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” Finn nearly dropped the quill. “Why three weeks?”
“Protocol requires the king’s spouse to be officially recognized before hosting major diplomatic events.
The World Council summit is in five months, and that’s going to take a lot of work and castle resources to pull that off successfully.
You need to be married with enough time to be formally presented as king consort.
” Helena tapped the parchment. “Three weeks is actually pushing it. Two would be better.”
“Can we even plan a wedding in two weeks?”
“You’re royalty now. You can plan anything in two weeks if you throw enough resources at it.” Darragh didn’t sound concerned. “Though it’ll have to be small. We don’t have the time for a massive state ceremony, although you totally deserve one.”
“Small sounds perfect.” Finn meant it. The thought of hundreds of strangers watching him marry Darragh made his stomach turn.
“The wedding will be limited to immediate family, close friends, essential council members, and advisers. We’ll make it three weeks.” Helena was already making a list. “We can do a larger celebration after the summit if you want.”
“Or we could just skip the larger celebration entirely.” Darragh looked at Finn. “Unless you want one?”
“I want to marry you and not humiliate either of us in front of dignitaries. That’s all there is on my current list of priorities.”
“Very reasonable priorities.” Darragh leaned closer. “We’ll keep it small. Just the people who matter.”
Helena set down her quill and surveyed the stack of parchment they’d covered with notes, clauses, and signatures.
“I’ll have the formal contract drawn up by tomorrow.
You’ll both need to review and sign it, then it goes to the World Council for official registration.
Once the council receives the paperwork, which will be within a day of it being signed, all of the clauses and conditions in it will go into effect.
The vow ceremony is simply a formality, but the marriage will already be legally binding. ”
She looked at them both. “This is your last chance to reconsider any of the terms we’ve discussed.”
Finn glanced at Darragh, who was already watching him with an expression that made breathing difficult. Three weeks until they were married. A lifetime of Thursdays after that.
“No changes.” Finn’s voice was steady. “It’s perfect.”
“Agreed.” Darragh stood and pulled Finn up with him. “Thank you, Helena. For everything.”
“Just doing my job.” But she smiled. “Though I’ll admit, this is the most pleasant contract negotiation I’ve ever supervised. Usually, there’s significantly more arguing.”
“We’re saving all our arguing for after the wedding.” Darragh kept hold of Finn’s hand. “It’ll be more like a typical marriage that way.”
“I’m sure.” Helena gathered her parchments. “I’ll expect you both back here tomorrow afternoon to sign the final contract. Until then, you’re dismissed.”
They left Helena’s office and made it approximately ten steps down the corridor before Darragh pulled Finn into an alcove and kissed him until he was breathless.
“Three weeks,” Darragh murmured against his mouth. “Do you think you can handle being engaged to me for three whole weeks?”
Finn laughed, dizzy and happy and still slightly terrified. “I’ll manage somehow. Apparently, I’m going to be consort in about twenty-four hours, so I’ll have to.”
“Good.” Darragh kissed him again, softer this time. “Because Helena’s right. You’re stuck with me now. Contract and everything.”
“It’s the best decision I ever made.” Finn meant it. He knew it was the right thing to do, and now he’d decided…
“I’ll remind you of that when you’re knee-deep in wedding planning and regretting everything.”
“Never.” Finn meant it. Marriage contract negotiations, three-week timelines, protocol expectations, and all - he wouldn’t change any of it. Not when it meant having full Thursdays with Darragh. That was a gift worth hanging onto.