Chapter Eleven
Darragh paced the length of his office for the third time, glancing out the window at the castle gates.
Finn had been gone for three bloody weeks while the castle prepared for the wedding, and apparently, three weeks was long enough for Darragh to develop some questionable habits, like checking the front gates every five minutes.
“The carriage will arrive when it arrives.” Helena didn’t even look up from her ledger. “Your pacing won’t make the roads shorter.”
“I’m not pacing.”
“You’ve worn a track in the carpet.”
Darragh stopped mid-stride. “I have not.”
“The servants are taking bets on whether you’ll actually sprint down to the gates when the earl’s carriage appears.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Darragh resumed pacing. “I wouldn’t sprint. I’d walk briskly.”
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, you’ve been utterly useless for the past week.” Helena finally looked up, smirking. “Thomas had to repeat himself four times yesterday during the treasury meeting. You kept staring at an empty chair.”
“I was thinking about whether we needed to order new upholstery.”
“You were mooning about Finn sharing your office with you and sitting in that chair.”
“Kings don’t moon.” Darragh wasn’t going to admit to thinking about Finn sitting in that chair. It did no good to let Helena know how accurate she was.
“You were mooning, which proves you’re the exception that proves the rule.” Helena made a note in her ledger. “Though I’ll admit, it’s disgustingly sweet.”
Darragh opened his mouth to argue, then caught sight of movement at the gates. The Earl of Winrone’s carriage - dark wood panels with silver trim, the earl’s coat of arms on the side door - rolled through the entrance.
He was out the door before Helena finished laughing.
“I thought you said brisk walking, not running,” she called after him. “You’re supposed to be dignified.”
Darragh didn’t care if his movements were dignified or not. He hit the main stairs at what was definitely not a sprint - more of an enthusiastic jog - and reached the entrance hall just as Finn stepped through the doors.
Brown eyes met his and Finn grinned. “Did you miss me?”
“Absolutely not.” Darragh crossed the space between them and pulled Finn into his arms. “I didn’t even notice you were gone.”
“Liar.” Finn’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Helena said you’ve been haunting the windows.”
“Helena talks too much.”
“She wrote me letters. Very detailed letters about the king’s ‘unprecedented sulking.’”
“Traitor.” But Darragh was smiling too hard to make it sound convincing. “How was Winrone?”
“Chaotic. Mother insisted on personally selecting my wedding attire, which involved approximately seventeen fittings. Jericho kept making speeches about how proud he was. And Trent finished the village hall door, although he claims it’s not as good as when I do it.”
“Of course it’s not. You’re going to be the king consort. Your doors are obviously superior.”
Finn laughed again, and Darragh felt his heart settle. Three weeks had been far too long.
“Your Majesty.” The Earl of Winrone approached with Finn’s mother and brothers behind him. “Thank you for the hospitality.”
Oh, right. Finn wasn’t the only one in the carriage.
Darragh reluctantly released his soon-to-be husband and greeted the family properly, though he kept Finn’s hand in his.
The next hour blurred with introductions, room assignments, and wedding preparations, but Darragh barely registered any of it.
Finn was back. That was the only thing that mattered.
/~/~/~/~/
The wedding ceremony took place in the castle’s chapel, with afternoon light streaming through the stained glass windows turning the stone floor into a patchwork of color.
Darragh stood at the altar in his formal navy jacket, the gold embroidery catching the light, as he turned and watched Finn walk down the aisle.
Finn was dressed in deep forest green that brought out the warmth in his brown eyes. He’d trimmed his hair, though it still stuck up a bit in the back. Darragh loved that about him. Even at his own wedding, Finn couldn’t quite look perfectly polished.
The Earl of Winrone delivered Finn to the altar with a pat on the shoulder, then took his seat. Finn’s hands were shaking when Darragh took them.
“You look amazing,” Darragh whispered.
“You do too.” Finn’s voice cracked slightly. “Though I might throw up.”
“Please don’t. Helena spent three weeks planning this.”
“No promises.”
The wedding official, an elderly man named Benedict who’d served Darragh’s parents, cleared his throat. “Shall we begin? The grooms have chosen to say their own vows. Your Majesty, if you’d like to begin.”
Darragh had spent hours agonizing over what he was going to say, trying to find words that captured everything he felt without it sounding like bad poetry. In the end, he’d settled on his honest feelings. They were the things most valued by Finn, and the words were meant for him.
“Finn.” His voice carried through the chapel.
“Three months ago, I was convinced I’d never find someone who could see past the crown.
Someone who’d call me out when I was being a fool, who would actually understand my awful jokes and laugh at them, and who’d choose repairing a village hall door over sitting through a formal banquet, because everyone here knows how much I like to get my hands dirty.
” He squeezed Finn’s hands. “Then you showed up and insulted yourself for fifteen minutes straight, and I knew I was in trouble.”
Laughter rippled through the audience. Finn’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“You challenge me. You surprise me. You make me want to be better, not because you demand it, but because you deserve it.” Darragh swallowed hard.
“I can’t promise I’ll always be easy to live with.
I’m stubborn and loud, and I hate compliments.
But I can promise I’ll always see you - not as my consort or my adviser, but as Finn.
The man who chose me even when he thought it was a terrible idea. ”
Finn was definitely crying now, though he was smiling too. “Well, now I’m going to sound ridiculous no matter what I say.”
More laughter. Even Benedict was grinning.
“Darragh.” Finn took a shaky breath. “I came here expecting to fail spectacularly and go home to my normal life. Instead, I found someone who listened when I talked, who valued my honesty even when it was inconvenient, and who looked at me like I mattered.” His voice steadied.
“I’m going to mess up. I’m going to say the wrong thing at state dinners and probably offend at least three ambassadors a month.
But I promise I’ll always be honest with you.
I’ll argue when you’re wrong, celebrate when you’re right, and show up every single Thursday for the rest of our lives. ”
Darragh’s throat was tight. “You’d better.”
“I do.”
“We haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Benedict said mildly.
“Right.” Finn grinned. “Sorry.”
Benedict led them through the traditional vows - the promises to honor and support, to stand together in times of peace and conflict, to build a partnership worthy of Safe Harbor.
Darragh barely heard the words. He was too focused on Finn’s face, on the way Finn’s hands had stopped shaking in his, on the certainty settling in his chest.
This was right. This was exactly right.
“By the authority vested in me by the World Council and the people of Safe Harbor, I declare you married.” Benedict smiled. “Your Majesty, you may kiss your consort.”
Darragh pulled Finn close and kissed him while their families and friends cheered. Better still, Finn kissed him back, his face still damp from his happy tears.
“Married,” Finn whispered. “We actually did it.”
“No backing out now.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Aldric approached with a blue velvet cushion.
Resting on it was the consort’s crown - smaller and lighter than Darragh’s formal crown, but no less significant.
It was made of wrought silver shaped into oak leaves and mountain peaks, with sapphires set at the points.
It had belonged to Darragh’s mother and originally had a lot more ornate silverwork and jewels.
Darragh had it remade to better suit his new husband’s personality.
Darragh lifted the crown carefully. This was the moment that would make everything official in the eyes of the kingdom - the moment Finn stopped being Lord Finn of Winrone and became King Consort of Safe Harbor.
“I’m sure it’s going to fall off,” Finn whispered, eyes wide.
“It won’t.” Darragh settled the crown on Finn’s head, adjusting it slightly. The silver gleamed against Finn’s brown hair. “I guessed correctly. It’s a perfect fit.”
Then he kissed Finn again, softer this time, because Finn was clearly worried about the crown getting dislodged while the chapel erupted in applause.
When they broke apart, Darragh took Finn’s hand and turned to face the audience. His advisers, council members, and Finn’s family watched with varying expressions of joy and anticipation.
“Please be upstanding and show your respect for Finn, the new King Consort of Safe Harbor.”
The entire chapel stood. Then, as one, they bowed - a deep, formal acknowledgment of Finn’s new rank and authority.
Finn’s hand tightened in his. Darragh glanced over and saw his husband’s face had gone pale.
“Breathe,” Darragh murmured. “This is just them showing they’re pleased for us.”
“They’re all bowing. To me.”
“You’re the king consort. They’re supposed to bow.”
“This is insane.”
Darragh chuckled. “It’s a little late for second thoughts.”
The audience straightened, and applause filled the chapel. Jericho was grinning widely. Finn’s mother was lightly dabbing at her tears with a piece of linen, smiling proudly. Even Aldric looked pleased, though he’d probably never admit it.
Darragh led Finn back down the aisle, past smiling faces and congratulations, and into the bright afternoon sunlight. The castle staff had lined up outside, waiting to greet their new king consort.
“How are you holding up?” Darragh kept his voice low as they both nodded and smiled as they made their way through the line.
“Ask me again when the crown actually falls off.”
“It’s not going to fall off.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I literally just put it on your head. I made sure it fit properly.”
Finn touched the crown gingerly, as if expecting it to dissolve. “I guess this is my life now. People bowing. Wearing crowns. Being married to you.”
“Are you regretting it already?”
“Not even a little bit.” Finn looked at him, and despite the hint of anxiety in his eyes, he was still smiling. “Though you’re definitely getting the first dance at the reception. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I. We’ll figure it out together.” Darragh was sure he was being reassuring, but clearly Finn wasn’t so sure.
“I’m beginning to think that’s your standard answer to everything.”
“It’s worked so far.”
Finn laughed, and the crown stayed firmly on his head, so in Darragh’s head that made him right.
See, still working. Although now the wedding itself was done, and none could say Finn wasn’t his consort, Darragh longed for the time when the two of them could just be alone, without the crowns.
He’d really missed his husband in the three weeks Finn had been away.