Jily oneshots

gold-wreathed and beautiful (aphrodite i shall sing)

by loverloverlover

James Potter, crown prince and first in line to the throne of England, stormed down the torch-lit castle corridor. He wore no formal livery, no superficial adornment other than the golden pin etched with his family crest, which hung from the thinly-woven chain around his neck. He had come from his lessons in swordsmanship with his most trusted guard, Remus Lupin, and he remained flushed from the exertion — though his agitated mood was no help to his complexion.

That he knew this day was always coming wasn't of any help to his current frame of mind. Though he had been born into an elevated position where sentiments such as romantic attachments were folly, he was still resistant to the societal expectation that he was to marry for political gain. He'd known the name of the woman he was to marry since he was old enough to understand the meaning of a betrothal, and he used to spend many a night contemplating what she would be like...whether she would find him charming.

He no longer harbored such thoughts, and he had rebelliously spent the last five years "courting" any woman that caught his fancy (even a few servants, to the horror of his parents). Truth be told, he was most resistant to his situation not because he was resentful of his position as crown prince — he actually carried that title with great pride, and he was always attentive to his father's 'kingly' lessons — but rather because he still hoped that, one day, he would find a woman to love for real. A woman who loved him with equal fervor in return.

And yet, for all his attempts to discover that elusive emotion and soul-deep connection, he'd never known romantic love. He'd explored lust in all its forms — on enough occasions that he rivaled the court rake, his best friend, Lord Sirius Black — but that bubble of warmth, that pitter-patter of the heart that the poets spoke of, had always evaded him.

His parents had found real love despite the odds stacked against them and their arranged marriage, and one would think that since he'd witnessed an arranged marriage blossom into something real, he would hold out hope for himself. Not the case. He had bedded so many unhappily married women of the aristocracy that he knew his parents were an anomaly.

Nevertheless, James had believed he'd still have a few unmarried years left to...enjoy, but he'd just been informed that his bride-to-be would be arriving at court within the week. Self-imposed rake status aside, he was not the type of man who would step out on his wedded wife — no matter that the practice of adultery was in abundance amongst the aristocracy. Once he was attached, he would remain committed for the rest of his life no matter how not in love he was, of that he was sure of.

Hence his stormy demeanor and fast-paced march towards his father's study. His complaining, he knew, would get him nowhere, but damned if he wasn't going to try.

Rounding the final corner, he approached the double doors to his father's council chambers. The two guards stationed outside straightened when they caught sight of him.

"Your Royal Highness," they greeted in unison, the two of them bowing their heads in deference.

"I must speak with my father," he replied as he reached them.

The two guards nodded once again, and they swept open the doors immediately. James thanked them as he stepped into the room.

James had been in these rooms so often that he knew the layout by heart. A large map table was stationed in the center, with a grand marble fireplace on the far wall, and his father's favorite sculpture was in a well-lit alcove off to the right. The walls were further adorned with great paintings of all styles and subject matter. This was the king's formal council chamber; his father's private study, only accessible through the king and queen's royal chambers, was much cozier and more personal.