A Tale as Old as Time

XII

As the sun set across the brilliant spring landscape all around the castle, a certain Francis Bonnefoy was not taking in the beautiful sight, but rather he was looking himself over with a frown. When he had come back from an afternoon stroll with Arthur that had been longer than expected, Francis was surprised to find an elaborate outfit fit for the highest of nobility waiting for him on his bed.

“What are you doing? I kinda wanna see if everything fits, so do you maybe wanna like, you know,  try everything on for me?” Feliks said, an evident frown in his voice. How long it had taken him to put this all together the Frenchman did not know, but what he did know was that this was not for someone of his standing.

Francis stepped away from the mirror and looked the coat over. It was a rich light blue colour, like the sky on a midsummer's day. It was beautiful, but he couldn't accept it.

“I can't, Feliks. I do like it, really, but I'm no noble,” he replied, but he couldn't stop himself from tracing the delicate pattern which had been imprinted on the coat. Was it really so bad for someone like him to wear something so fine? At the end of the day, it was only clothing.

Just when he was starting to change his mind, Antonio piped up from the other side of the room. “Come on, it would look great on you! Besides, we know all about your evening with the master, and do you really think we're going to let you go dressed like some beggar?” He chirped, and Francis let out a sigh.

With a short huff, he discarded his normal clothes and started to put on the various pieces of the outfit, which he could only hope he was doing correctly. In the end, he needed some help; it was evident by Feliks’ muffled chuckling. Everything had been soon straightened out, and Francis looked like he had been born a noble.

It might have been vain of him to admit it, but as he tied his hair back, he felt proud of his appearance and had half a mind to strut about his room in these new clothes even after the night was over.

Antonio let out a chuckle as the Frenchman fawned over himself and the door to the spacious room opened. “Now you go out there and you have the night of your life, okay?”

Francis blushed lightly, but he shot the two a grin before hurrying towards the ballroom. He wasn't entirely sure what Arthur had planned, but the castle had been buzzing in excitement as preparations had been put in place.

As he went down the marble stairs basked in the light of a mid-April evening, he saw Arthur, who was waiting just outside the ballroom and fidgeting. He was wearing a deep azuline coat which contrasted nicely with his dark red vest and white cravat, and his hair had been parted and combed, quite unlike the tousled mess he was familiar with.

“Wow, Arthur,” the Frenchman hummed, stroking the serpent's cheek and cupping it so he could observe him properly, a fond smile on his face. “You look amazing.”

Immediately the Briton flushed a dark red and crossed his arms. “You don't have to tell me that if you don't want to. It isn't as if I don't know the truth,” he mumbled, his tongue flicking out in protest. Francis only chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.

“And the truth is that you really do look nice tonight, no matter how much you want to argue.” With that, he pulled away with a grin and took Arthur's hand, leading him inside the ballroom. He thought he heard the serpent mutter something, so he squeezed his hand and looked to him. “Yes?”

Arthur looked away from him, his other hand fidgeting with his cravat. “I only wished to say that you look rather handsome yourself, Francis.”

Once the two fell silent, Roderich started playing a soft tune that Francis couldn't say he'd heard before, yet it sounded so familiar. The candlelight was soft enough the two could watch the fading colours through the windows, and all the romance in the air combined with an unfamiliar flutter in Francis’ chest made him do something unexpected. He slowly turned to face Arthur and set his free hand on his waist.