Chapter Text
Kankri could practically hear the thumping of his heart in his chest. Though he had known about what what was going to happen for about a month now, and had had plenty of hours to think it over while traveling across the quaint countryside by horse-drawn carriage in near solitude, the implications of the situation seemed to be just weighing on him now. Marriage was not something to be taken lightly, but everyone close to home acted as if it was. He had always more or less known that when he came of age he would be married off as quickly as possible, but the reality of that fact had not been made explicitly as he had wished, nor did he think that the statement would be taken this literally.
The situation wasn't as bad as it could have possibly been. His father had at least heeded his request for a male suitor, which Kankri would have never imagined was even remotely possible until a few weeks ago. The moment King Vantas had returned from another one of his trips to yet another neighboring kingdom, he promptly informed his eldest son that he was to be married off in few short weeks to a heir to the Strider throne. A man Kankri had never met. Sort of. A man Kankri had never met informally. Being royalty did come with the great honor of more or less remembering every member of every allied or foe kingdom. And meeting most of them at one of the countless dinners or balls held every few months. Not much more came out of it than a bit of over rehearsed small talk and polite handshakes with quickly stated introductions. After a few thousand of these events, exact names, faces, and conversations began to blur together.
The one thing in particular Kankri could remember about the Striders is that they were extremely powerful, and the expanse of their land and riches was not something to bat an eye at. But really, who could forget something like that when land and riches was the only thing people really talked about? Anyone would jump at the chance to marry into such a profitable kingdom, which is probably exactly why his father had been a bit less particular about certain details of the marriage. This being said, the Striders weren't exactly the most social of families, and it was almost amazing that they had rather positive foreign relations, especially after certain off hand remarks Kankri had heard uttered by either one of the Strider brothers, usually leading to the other sibling giving the slightest bit of a grin while everyone else nervously tried to usher the conversation on.
All the other velvety red seats in the carriage were vacant, leaving Kankri to his own devices, which was more or less a bad thing. A bit of conversation wouldn't have hurt, and possibly ease a bit of his self imposed stress. The scene outside the window seemed almost to play on loop. The same golden fields, with the occasional cottage or stone wall, over and over till the repetition created almost a feeling of nausea in the boy’s stomach and he could no longer bear to do as much as glance outside.
He laid out as well as he could on the cushioned seat to avoid looking out the window, and instead occupied himself with the intricate designs on the roof of the carriage. The stiffness of his garments did not make this activity extremely comfortable, and the heat of summer did not help the feeling of sickness, which Kankri soon realized was probably more likely due to a sense of dread than a boring landscape.
Sitting up, he unbuttoned the top four buttons of his burgundy doublet, each with a small engraving of his family crest. As luxurious as samite looked, it was not the sort of fabric that would be ideal for these sort of temperatures. It was rather thick, and not very malleable, which didn't allow for much circulation and made it impossible to roll up one's sleeves. Plus, the high collar often jabbed Kankri in the neck, occasionally caused chaffing, and forced him to crane his neck when looking in really any direction.
A small trail of sweat rolled from Kankri’s thick black hair and down his back, and quickly pushed him over the edge. Hastily undoing the rest of the buttons, he pulled off the uncomfortable garment, leaving him in a light, frilly cotton undershirt. Sighing in relief, he set the discarded doublet on the seat across from him, gently tugging on the much more accommodating shirt to help cool himself faster.
Outside, the vast empty fields slowly grew smaller, and the sight of a building of some sort became more frequent. This sluggish transition continued until the carriage came to a halt. Peering outside, the prince caught sight of what appeared to be a large stone wall with a few guards standing alongside what Kankri assumed to be the entrance to the city. It only took a few minutes before the guard realized where this carriage had come from, and where it was heading. He took this time to pick up his doublet and quickly put it and and do up the buttons. They were given the signal to enter and promptly started up again, this time on a hard stone path instead of the dusty dirt ones he had been traveling before. Kankri gave a small smile and wave to one of the guards, only receiving a sideways glance in return.
The streets were bustling with people of all kinds, with men, women, and a plethora of small children weaving in between each other going about their business. A few gave him a friendly smile, others pointed and waved, but for the most part, no one really took much notice of him. This didn't really hurt Kankri as much as it worried him. He knew he wasn't exactly from the most prominent family, which probably made certain people less than happy about the two kingdom’s union, but his biggest worry was that he wasn't the blushing bride for Prince Strider people had probably been expecting ever since stoic boy had been born.
The pit in his stomach returned again, nervous beads of sweat forming at his brow. He quickly pulled the curtains closed, effectively giving him the illusion of solitude. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he buried his face in his arms. Everyone here hated him, he was sure of it. They had no reason to greet him with open arms, or even remotely like him. This was a disaster, all of it. He had already failed at one of the few responsibilities he had actually been entrusted with. Maybe if he just turned back now, no one would notice.
Taking a deep breath, Kankri put his legs down, and shooed away the thoughts. It was completely absurd to turn back at this point. Plus, if he did, his father would hardly take him back in open arms, and in all likelihood would disown him. Not to mention that obviously not everyone hated him, a few had at least smiled at him, and technically he hadn't failed yet. What really mattered is how he came across to his husband-to-be. They didn't really have to “love” each other in the traditional sense, just stand one another, and this in itself was more of a preference than a necessity. Plenty of kings and queens who took part in arranged marriages outright hated their spouse, and a fair majority of them had not plunged their kingdom into endless war, which was a confidence booster. Regardless, depending on how this first meeting went, it shouldn't be all that hard to get his betrothed to not completely and utterly despise him.