For the first time since he arrived in Astarus, Noras sleeps the whole night through, dreaming of red flowers and afternoon sunlight. At the crack of dawn, however, his door slams open, waking him with such a start that he tumbles straight out of bed.

Bethan: IT’S THE MAN OF THE HOUR! [She turns with a smirk, tapping a finger against the dagger freshly buried in the doorway] Really? Again? I thought we were friends~

Noras groans, scowling in her general vicinity as he attempts to untangle himself from the blankets: Fuck off, behenchod -

Bethan laughs: Oh, wow! I think I like you more when you’re half-asleep.

Noras’ head begins to clear, the last vestiges of sleep fading away, and he registers who he’s talking to, bolting to his feet: Dame Bethan - I apologize -

Bethan waves him off: Relax, relax. I’ve heard worse. [She levels his with a playful glare] But, seriously, hurry up, we need to get ready for the ceremony - I’ll wait outside.

Noras stands very still for a moment after Bethan leaves. It hits him, very suddenly and very heavily, that today makes it official—today, he’ll be knighted, and then there’s no going back. But then, there had been no going back from the moment he stepped in front of Elias in that clearing. With a small, rueful smile, he thinks to himself that there had been no going back the moment Orville had first handed him that painting of the Astarian prince.

When Noras steps out of the room, Bethan is waiting, leaning against the wall. She stares at him, sighs heavily, shakes her head, and pushes him back into the room.

Bethan: No, no, no… Let’s get you fixed up, shall we?

She pats and tugs on his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles as best she can. Then she examines his hair and heaves another deep, forlorn sigh, making a valiant effort to tame it down before throwing her hands up and sending the brush flying across the room. With that, she seems to decide that he looks presentable, or at least as presentable as he ever will be, and she drags him out of the room again, tugging him along quickly.

Noras: Slow down -

Bethan: No time!

She pulls him all the way to her own chambers and drops to her knees in front of a small dresser, rummaging through the drawers. After a moment, she springs up, several small boxes and thin brushes in her hands.

Noras instantly backs away: No - [belatedly] No, thank you.

Bethan: Just a tiny bit! A little bit! Just a little weensy bit!

Noras: No.

Bethan: Just your eyes and lips - and a teeny bit of highlighting!

Noras, who has a sister and and a vague understanding of these words: ...Fine, but if I see you using more than three things I’ll know you’re lying—

Bethan’s hands flash out, viper-quick, and she yanks him towards the mirror: Deal!

A good half hour later, Bethan finally releases him—Noras learns that she has a vice-grip to rival Iam’s—giving him barely a moment to gaze despairingly at his reflection before she sets off again, tugging him along to the main hall. Noras shudders as the door comes into view, slowing down even as Bethan pulls him along. Bethan glances behind and comes to a stop, turning to place her hands gently on his shoulders.

Bethan: Hey. It’s going to be alright.

Noras, looking over her shoulder towards the hall: I’m not - made for this.

Bethan: Do you like Prince Elias?

Noras turns to her, surprised: I - Yes, of course.

Bethan: Do you want to spend time with him?

Noras: Yes.

Bethan: Do you want to take care of him?

Noras: … Yes.

Bethan beams: In that case, you’re perfectly made for this job!

Noras: [bringing a hand to his face] Bethan…

Bethan: [grabbing his hands] Uh-uh! No touching your face - you’ll ruin my work! [She gives his hands a squeeze and then lets go] Here, breathe for me… in for three, out for eight.

Noras follows her instructions, breathing in and out, and then closes his eyes: I’m fine - it’s fine. [somewhat begrudgingly] Thanks.

Bethan: Don’t mention it. [she nudges him with a grin] Now get in there and get married.

Noras: What?

The doors open.

~ · ~

Elias blinks his eyes open as the curtains are opened gently. He groans, turning away from the window to face the sweet sweet darkness.

A maid walks up to his bed: Your highness? I’m afraid you’re required to rise, we’ve been sent to dress and prepare you for the knighting ceremony.

Elias sighs, curling up for a moment before sitting up and stretching, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The servants come to him and help him up, nearly dragging him over to his washroom. Distantly, Elias thinks he can remember seeing them around Valainya’s wing.

After scrubbing him down, they start working his hair. He - still not being completely awake - is completely pliant, not quite lucid enough to protest when they put his hair up into a bun so complicated he knows he won’t be able to get it untangled without help later on. They move him back to his room, sitting him down and taking out a large bag full of cosmetic products.

Elias eyes the makeup warily: I do not think makeup will be necessary - I can use my magic -

The eldest maid looks down at him with a stern look: Your highness, this is a special occasion that requires real products. Her highness Princess Valainya has made it clear that you are to be taken care of by us today.

Elias internally sighs, but nods to her, tilting his head to face her as she picks up a product. After about thirty minutes, they let him stand, and gesture to his bed, where his clothing is hanging.

His new ceremonial robes are a pain to put on, several layers that have to be carefully placed and draped over him so as to not ruin the hair and makeup, and to make sure that it retains the intended shape.

Eventually they all step back, admiring their work. Elias looks down at them, unused to maids being so comfortable near him.

Elias, carefully: Are we done?

Valainya: No, you’re still missing these.

Elias’ head snaps to look over at Valainya, who walks over with his crown and a cloak: No brother of mine is getting a knight without looking his best.

Elias nods, bowing his head so that she can slip the crown on, and rearranges the complicated hairstyle so that it can sit right. She then billows the cloak around him, settling it on his shoulders.

Elias, slightly sardonically: Do I look the part?

Valainya looks him over, and gives him a rare smile: [softly] Yes. You look amazing. [She then frowns] Why do I feel like I’m preparing you for marriage?

Elias laughs: Well, you don’t seem to be the only one to think so… Shahīn is about to be bonded to me, it’s similar in a way.

Valainya huffs: He’d better be prepared for it too… Are you sure about this, İlyas?

Elias gives her a fond eye roll and a nod: I am.

She huffs out: Don’t be smart… [she looks out the window] Have you thought of his title yet?

Elias: Pardon?

She rolls her eyes: His title. Bethan is the knight of Lapis, Warner is the Knight of Mercy, and so on. The title that represents them. What have you chosen?

Elias follows her line of sight, eyes following the morning birds flying in the horizon: … I thought of it for a long time, and I think… [he shakes his head with a small smile] well, you’ll find out later, won’t you?

Valainya purses his lips and moves her hawk-like gaze upon him, but after he simply gives her a cheeky grin, she throws her hands in the air: Fine! Keep your secrets. [despite this, she laughs].

With one last look over, they walk out to the main hall. He’s brought inside and scans the room. The room has been decorated with the country’s banners, flowers blooming in the vases that line the walls. Most of those present were dignitaries don’t pay him any mind.

He walks past people, feeling a sense of relief then there is no sign of his father, or his siblings - save for Giana, who offers him a sheepish smile as Valainya walks him up to the platform.

Valainya: You know what to do, right?

Elias nods: Yes. [after hesitating] Do you think he might change his mind?

Valainya turns to face him, their eyes locking: If he does, he’s a spineless fish-ass coward and I’m going to fillet him.

Elias laughs lightly but then offers her a serious glare: Please don’t. [He takes in a deep breath, and takes the ceremonial sword as it is offered to him. He closes his eyes, and opens them, his face blanking] I’m ready.

The doors open.