Coronation

[featheredflames]

It is all far too much attention for Joshua's liking.

He knew this was how it would be, that there would be a certain amount of fussing the be expected...but this was beyond the scope of acceptable fussing surely. So much unnecessary commotion over a fitting of ceremonial robes that he wouldn't wear more than a handful of times at that... Would it not be better to spend time focusing on the clothing he would be draped in when he finally dawned his father's mantle? The day-to-day wear that he would need to sport as Archduke of Rosaria.

That would come later, in time, he had been reassured. This outfit would get at least a few days of wear out of it. The ceremony was to last more than a singular evening, festivities dragging on for nearly a week after the event of the coronation itself. Already Joshua feels weary at the thought. Fancy suppers and meeting with dignitaries were in his future but right now his present reality was a miserable one. Fabric is cinched around his waist as measurements are taken and pins are adjusted. He feels like a doll as he's fitted, made to stand for bells on end. Founder he could only hope that some semblance of reprieve would find him soon, hopefully before his knees gave out...

Swallowing he stares out the window, doing his best not to move as the tailors do their work as quickly as they can. It would be unfair if he told them to stop - they were only doing as they had been instructed to, to rework and refit the robes his father wore on his crowning day. Joshua cannot help but think they don't suit him - Clive would wear (and fit!) them far better than he. Yet it was tradition...and while he may be able to escape the tailors ere long, there was no escaping protocol and the duty that loomed over him.

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[featheredflames]

Scooped up in Clive's arms much like he had been as a child, Joshua's cheeks flame hot as he holds fast to his brother. He is no longer petit and a mere ten summers old, but there seems no issue at all for Clive to support his weight. He might as well weigh nothing more than a feather as he's carried ever so gently toward his bed. No, his brother was wrong - he was no fairytale prince by far and Clive was far suited more for the title.

"I beg to disagree...I can only hope to embody your traits someday."

Which, in all honesty, is all he's ever wanted to do - to live up to being even a sliver of the man Clive had grown up to be.

[flamebrand]

Joshua feels scarcely heavier than Invictus, though that's likely Clive's bias speaking. It's an easy task, carting him to bed and sitting down with him spread across his lap; easier still to appreciate the entirety of Joshua laid in front of him, with his fine, delicate clothes and the braid woven into his hair, the silver accessory that shimmers around his neck.

Clive traces his finger along the latter, fingering at the chain before letting it rest against Joshua's pale skin.

"Whatever I have, you've always had tenfold."

Courage, decisiveness, kindness. "Strength isn't always in one's ability to swing a big sword, you know."

[featheredflames]

Funny, how he no longer feels his age sat upon his brother's lap. It isn't a bad thing, to be humbled in such a way. If anything, his chest swells with further affection for it.

He idolized Clive - of course he could never be as good as him.

"But it is a rather impressive and important skill to have." Rosaria couldn't have an archduke who boasted poor mastery of the blade, even if he had his Shield to fight for him. "You are far more impressive than you will ever admit."

[flamebrand]

A hum.

"I learned it to stay close to you."

The sword, he means. Suggested to him by his father, who outlined in somewhat certain terms that Clive's options were to become a soldier and stay within Rosalith's walls, or to go the way of Byron: sent off elsewhere, affectionately or no. Clive has a feeling that if he didn't choose the former, their mother would have found a way to send Clive to the most far-flung corner of Rosaria, or worse. (Ash, perhaps, if Barnabas Tharmr had any say.)

"So, in that respect, I credit you for my skill."

[featheredflames]

"And who shall we credit for your skill in flattery?"

Not Joshua, certainly not him. He smiles, unable to help get caught up in reminiscing, fingers fiddling with the hair at his brother's nape.

"...I am grateful that you did, Clive. It is an honour to have you as my Shield and brother."

[flamebrand]

"You honored me, by giving me the title." His smile warms, still insisting that Joshua take and keep the credit for the place he's in, the place he's been allowed. His hand sifts along blond hair, and plays with the braid trailing from temple to jaw.

"Not all brothers would have had the grace or the inclination. And not all men possess the goodness that you do."

Fratricide for the sake of power is commonplace in other nations. Less so in Rosaria, obviously, but not all un-blessed children in the ducal family history have been treated with the dignity that Clive has been shown－ and that's without the sort of catastrophe that Clive caused.

"You're the best of us. And I adore you for it."

[featheredflames]

It is very unfair, Joshua thinks, that Clive is as charming as he is. Perhaps that is why the Founder decided to bless him with the Phoenix and not his brother. He would have been perfect otherwise and, he realizes, albeit a little sadly, there would have been no reason for him to exist.

Far more soothing than arousing, the way Clive toys with his hair and holds him fills him with an ease he is always chasing yet rarely finds. Here in his brothers arms he has always found solace, peace. He is not the best - far from it - but to know Clive thinks so highly of him because of who he is and not what has his heart swell in his breast.

"And I adore you, for all you have done for me and the guidance you have provided. I would not be who I am without you, Clive."

[flamebrand]

Clive, always inclined to give Joshua exactly what he needs, provides a rare pushback against that last assertion. A little shake of the head, an implied no.

"You made me the man that I am."

Founder knows what he would have become if not for Joshua. Uncle Byron still occasionally ribs him about it, though the ribbing is laced with a certain melancholy that Clive hasn't pointed out: you were such a quiet, sad-looking lad for a while. The only thing that could make you smile was your brother, you know.

He tips Joshua's jaw, and presses a featherlight kiss against his brother's lips.

"You were everything you are now, from the moment you were born. That won't change, with or without a crown on your head."

Another kiss, slightly deeper this time, angled and affectionate.

"...It almost feels like we're trading vows, doesn't it," he half-chuckles.

[featheredflames]

Trading vows...oh how he colors at the thought. Such a fantasy had been one he had entertained when he was little, imagining how wonderful a wedding would be between them. Now he is aware that it cannot be, but that does not mean he is incapable of dreaming about it.

"It is something I have always wanted..." he confessed after a moment of deliberation, catching his breath after the affectionate kiss given to him. No reason not to tell Clive the truth now. "Mother and the court would never allow it but...imagine it."

[flamebrand]

A soft laugh, at that.

"We've already done something similar, I suppose. In witness of Father and all."

Gently, he slides Joshua off of his knees and onto the mattress. With the weight displaced, Clive moves from the bed, a distancing that only lasts a breath of a second before he's back in front of Joshua, knelt in the same way he had when he was only fifteen summers old, willing his legs not to shake.

"You touched me here, and here." One shoulder, then the other. "And then you gave me your flame."

He bows his head, lips still curled into a smile.

"I swore to you, 'forevermore'. In body and soul, sickness and health."

[featheredflames]

Clive kneels before him and Joshua feels winded, overwhelmed by the truth of his brother's words. They had more or less exchanged vows, albeit of a different sort, back when Joshua had knighted him and given him his blessing.

It takes all of Joshua's resolve not to cry.

Out he reaches with his hands to cup his beloved brother's face, tipping it upward to meet his gaze. It is unfair how charming Clive is. Truly. How had he been so blessed to have this man as his brother?

"You did...mayhaps then we ought to renew our vows after I am coronated?"

But in private. Their mother would be beyond annoying if they made any public display of it.

[flamebrand]

Joshua tips him, and Clive's blue eyes melt.

"You would honor me," he says, after a beat he takes to swallow down his emotions. Pride, apology, love. Joshua possesses everything in Clive that's warm and good; his brother has always made Clive want to be a better man.

"I would pledge myself to you again, in however form you wish."

Moving to take one of Joshua's hands, he kisses the back of it. A knight bowing to his liege, a vassal to his lord, a lover to a lover. He can be whatever Joshua wants, as long as Joshua wants him.

[featheredflames]

"I think, dear brother, the honour would be mine."

His brother is a virtuous man, a noble man, a far better man than Joshua could ever claim to be. He swoons at Clive's heartfelt dedication, his words of devotion...what exactly did he do to deserve such love and adoration?

His cheeks are ruddy as the back of his hand is kissed, nose scrunching up in embarrassment as he shifts in place seated upon the edge of his bed.

"We have already been tied together in ways far deeper than mortal men are, by virtue of the Phoenix...but if you would humour me, I would be pleased to have our hands bound together in private."

Mayhaps Cyril would bear witness, even if he would probably protest it.

[flamebrand]

Binding hands. Neither the implication nor the enormity of that gesture escapes Clive, and he's momentarily overwhelmed by the suggestion that they engage in it, that Joshua would want it done despite their mothers' suggestions of him finding an appropriate prospect to carry his child.

It simply isn't done. Clive should refuse, if not due to decency－ something he'd long discarded, even before they traded kisses at the stable today－ due to principle, and his loyalty to Rosaria.

But his devotion to the dutchy begins and ends with his love for Joshua. Clive couldn't refuse him, not for anything in the world.

"I would like that."

Sincerely, though he shouldn't. Moving to place himself back on the bed beside Joshua, he smiles at that blush on his brother's face and presses his lips against the crest of a high cheekbone.

"―Even if you ever have to take another. I'll always be yours."

[featheredflames]

Even if he had to take another.

The thought sours the warm, sweet moment they're sharing as he drops his gaze while Clive kisses his cheek. It would be a particular cruelty if he were to have to take a wife and bed her, all for the sake of creating an heir. It will be expected of him, just another part of his duty...but the thought of it makes him ill. It would be unfair to everyone involved. Unjust.

"Perhaps a cousin of ours can carry on the Rosfield legacy. It is not a duty I wish to fulfill if I can avoid it."

[flamebrand]

Ah. Joshua's expression clouds, and Clive's brows furrow to mirror that subdued displeasure. Of all the duties allocated to Joshua, this is the one that Clive also likes thinking of the least: finding a match, producing an heir.

No need to darken the mood with this, though. Founder knows that their mother likes to speak on it frequently enough, without Clive invoking it into this gentle, private space.

"－A duty impossible to fulfill, simply because no one in Valisthea deserves you."

His fingers rake through Joshua's soft hair. Soothing.

"And you should only couple with someone deserving. A shame, but that's the truth of it."

[featheredflames]

"You are deserving."

He is quick to counter, leaning into his brother's touch. Clive's fingers are meant to soothe and they do just that as a sense of peace washes over him.

"You are more deserving than any could possibly hope to be. I want you Clive...no one else."

And it is a demand he is not keen on compromising on.

[flamebrand]

A beat, to let those words, settle, and Clive smiles.

"Well," is lighthearted, to dispel any uncertainty that Joshua might have about what Clive also wants, "I did promise you dessert."

Gently teasing, as he flicks an idle finger under his brother's chin. Doting, the way he used to when they were far younger.

"...But I can wait, if you'd rather. Until after we renew our vows."

Obviously, there's no way to be proper about something already so thoroughly taboo, but far be it for Clive to deprive his brother of what would pass as a courtship if they weren't blood-tied. He wants Joshua to experience everything in exactly the way he'd ever dreamed of, coupling included.

[featheredflames]

"How cruel of you to make me choose."

He swallows, lump in his throat as he stares back at his brother, imploring him to make a decision for him...but he knows Clive won't. It is his choice and his alone.

"...Mayhaps not all the way then. Anything except fully coupling. We can save that for our renewal."

[flamebrand]

A low laugh, when called out on being cruel. It's sweet, that Joshua wants him so. What they have will never be looked upon favorably by the world, but it matters so little when it's something so precious to the both of them.

Indulgent, Clive strokes the curve of Joshua's cheek with the back of his hand, admiring his beauty from a distance that scarcely few people are permitted.

"If that's what you wish."

Implied: anything, for you. "How, then, does my precious brother want to be loved tonight?"

[featheredflames]

"In any fashion you deem appropriate."

How funny, to even mention such a word when they were going to indulge in one another. He leans into the fleeting touch, desire already building. Oh but it would be so simple if Clive did make love to him fully...but he mustn't. Not yet.

"So long as you do not enter me, I am amicable to anything."

[flamebrand]

Alright, another laugh at 'appropriate', for good measure. Everything about what's happening now is unholy, and it's far less about the content of what they'll do and far more about the fact that they'll indulge in it at all.

And yet, no part of Clive wants to stop. Ifrit shivers happily at the prospect of being near the Phoenix; the flames inside of them dance and attune, never to flicker or fade.

"Very diplomatic of you, Your Grace."

A gentle tease, his voice still lilting on the tail end of that laugh. Clive presses a quick kiss to the corner of Joshua's mouth, then pulls back to play at the ties of his brother's tunic, at the layers that still keep him neat and tidy.

"Will you let your Shield please you, then?"

[featheredflames]

Joshua cannot help but wonder if by virtue of his position that, in a strange way, this act could be made holy. If he was venerated and deified, would such an action then in turn be blessed? He is no scholar nor does he truly know the depths of their people's beliefs like the Undying did. Still, he thinks, it would only be fair.

With ruddy cheeks he smiles back at his brother, eager for what will soon follow.

"I would be delighted to be pleased and pleasured by my most loyal and devoted Shield."

[flamebrand]

Very sweet. With permission granted, Clive settles back and starts stripping his own layers off first, not wanting to be so uncouth as to make Joshua bare himself while Clive remains fully clothed. He'll offer his vulnerability first, and then ease Joshua into his own.

His simple shirt sheds onto the floor, alongside his boots and sword. Invictus remains propped by Joshua's bedside dresser, standing vigil; it's a little funny to think of the horrors it's witnessed throughout many, many generations of Rosfields, and the sin it will bear witness to now.

Sorry, ancestors. Clive shimmies out of his trousers until all that's left is his underclothes, and he pauses there to reach for Joshua again, breaching personal space with most of his skin now bare.

"...Not put off, I hope."

He doesn't consider himself a natural beauty, the way Joshua is; riddled with scars and tanned from outdoors marches, he isn't quite sure if he's Joshua's idea of attractive.

[featheredflames]

Clive may not be intending to put on a show, but Joshua watches him as he strips with baited breath, eyes slowly widening as more and more layers are removed. Sure, this isn't the first time he's seen his brother without a shirt, but that does not mean he cannot appreciate what he's already bared witness to.

Clive is all muscle, perfectly sculpted in every way that matters. He would have to be utterly mad to not find him attractive. What could be more attractive than the man he admires ever so much?

"On the contrary." He feels giddy, stomach fluttering once Clive draws close again. It is not an invasion of space, not when he welcomes him in without hesitation. Hands move to trace down Clive's arms, reveling in the set firmness of them. Oh it is unfair just how striking he is. "You are frustratingly handsome."