It doesn't take long for something to become a routine.
They didn't realize it at first, but preparing for a courting ball, a funeral, and a coronation is a lot more work than you'd expect.
For the next week, Tom only saw Tord for more than 10 minutes at a time during breakfast, dinner, and then dance practice after hours. Tord had become swamped with responsibilities, and it was getting more and more obvious that he was being overworked.
But every night he managed to make time for Tom, and ask for his hand in a dance.
They were used to holding each other in the dark space of the ballroom, matching their paces and steps to each other all while wearing their pajamas.
Tom got to wake up knowing that he'd fall asleep remembering how Tord's expression turned peaceful when he got into a stance with him.
Tord found comfort in the constant company of his friend among all of the chaos he was living through during the day. The pressure kept packing on and Tom managed to peel it away with his presence, and soon enough, it became a routine.
It was thanks to Tom he could even get through the day without breaking down.
Thankfully, Tom managed to tip one of the doctors and they were able to locate Egil's disease as 'Rock's edge'. They found the antidote and cured the illness from spreading and causing further damage. Egil was no longer contagious and was able to move on to other methods of treatment. He even got to see his wife again.
However, his lungs were already damaged beyond repair. He wasn't going to be saved from death- he was definitely going to die- but at least he'd be alive to see his son surpass him.
Tord wanted to visit his father but his schedule wouldn't allow him. He was frustrated, but as routine would owe, Tom washed that feeling away with some practice.
The courting ball was planned for the upcoming Saturday at 1 pm. The day was Thursday, and luckily for the both of them, Tom was able to sit in on Tord getting the King Suit tailored.
And wow, what a lucky day for Tom.
Said prince sat down on a wooden chair in the fitting room, a good meter away from the royal dresser and Tord. Tord was standing on a stool, his arms outstretched as the dresser measured his body with tape.
The Larzinnian was wearing an undershirt and undergarment pants, giving Tom an unimpressed look. "Okay, you don't need to stare."
"But where else would I look~?" Tom played, giving him a smug little grin.
Tord blushed and rolled his eyes, watching the dresser as she fit the heavy red coat onto him. She held out the corners, making a little tongue click when she realized just how big it was on the future king. Tord blushed even harder in embarrassment.
She took the coat back to her workstation, Tord letting his arms down before they cramped. Tom hummed and crossed his own arms over his chest.
"You know, I think red looks really dashing on you."
"Dashing?" Tord repeated, snickering and crossing his arms right back. "Why thank you. It's sort of a tradition for kings in Larzinnia to wear red."
"Oh, my apologies- you must hate the color then." Tom apologized quietly.
Tord smiled at Tom's thoughtfulness. He shook his head and extended his arms again when the dresser came around.
"Actually, I don't. Maybe because I look 'dashing' in it~"
Tom flushed at his flirt being used against him, making a small scoff. "Last time I'm ever complimenting you~"
Tord giggled, stilling himself again when the dresser started buttoning up the coat over his torso.
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Capes and Crowns. (TomTord Royalty AU)
FanficTheir fates were sealed the moment they were born. Tom was a cursed prince, and Tord was going to be the king. Neither of them was fit for their supposed destinies, but they bared with the expectations anyway. Everything was going to plan- Tom was t...