forget the invitations, floral arrangements, and breadmakers

‘Marry me,’ he asked, and for a moment, it was possible.

For a moment, there was nothing in the world but their connection - nothing but his fingers, calloused and worn from years of fighting interlinked with her thin, pretty ones, holding them. Nothing but the electricity between their palms, nothing but the warmth of their smiles, the warmth of her lips gently pressing against his.

And then the moment was over. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, and he knew, but it still hurt.

Ducat traced his fingers down her arm, gentle, and down to her bare shoulder; he wrapped his arms around her neck, and pulled her closer. ‘You can’t?’ He pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘We couldn’t… elope, or something? Keep it a secret?’

The woman laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the ten lands of Aav - Ducat didn’t need to go anywhere but here to know it. If moments like this would always have to be stolen, then he would be forever a thief.

‘Ducat, I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

‘And,’ she said, and kissed him softly before she spoke again, ‘I don’t need any kind of document to prove that.’

‘But…’ There was really nothing else to say, so he stalled, twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers. ‘It would be nice, I guess.’

‘It would,’ she agreed, ‘but not in this life, my love. I’m needed here. You need me here, don’t you?’

He nodded, kissing her forehead.

‘And I need you where you are. With nobody bothering either of us. We have good work to do, my love. We can change the world.’

‘You are my world,’ he said, earnestly. ‘Can I change your mind?’

‘Maybe,’ she laughed, and he swept her up in his arms. ‘Maybe someday. If things change. Ask me in a year.’

-

It had been a year, and things had changed. Ducat watched from the rows - the rows, they wouldn’t even let him close - as the casket containing the body of his never-wife was lowered into the ground.

At least she got a funeral. Their daughter - only a few months old - was buried in shame, like the rest of the feelings between them.

Marry me, he thought, that’s only one way to be together forever. Maybe in the next life, my love.

ducat astoria

• the mysterious general •

‘We’re not going to hurt you,’ said the captain, slowly. He looked about thirty-five, but as he was an elf, those people to whom the stays of youth eternally cling, Frankie knew he could be centuries older than he seemed at first glance. His style didn’t seem particularly sailor-esque, but rather military - he wore a well-ironed green jacket, shining with a few clinking medals of valour, silver-tasselled epaulettes completing the look. A flat, circular hat sat atop his head, the same colours as the rest of his ensemble: green, white, and silver.

Frankie’s eyes widened when she realised where she’d seen that combination before.

‘You - are you the Old Guard?’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I see you know your military history,’ he replied. ‘Yes. I’m General Ducat.’

ducat is the captain of the flightless pegasus, the pirate ship the team has somehow ended up on. he was once a military leader, but has somehow ended up a rogue on a mission to find the missing princess.

• ducat was the general under the former queen of kvarlhidthe, and remained loyal to her when she was overthrown. he led the group known as the old guard in continued support of the former rule.
• he’s an elf, and thus an odd choice for the military leader of the fey country of kvarlhidthe. there’s always been questions about how he got his position, but he was a very loyal and effective soldier and tactician.
• ducat was raised in rhyllisor, the land of the elves, but moved to kvarlhidthe when he was older. he had no family left in his homeland and was idealistic when he joined the military, believing in what kvarlhidthe of the time stood for.
• he dislikes the istafryls, and his main goal is something a little different to the rest of the cast. but there’s a very specific reason he needs people finding the princess on his side.