Chapter Text
When Roux and Darling had wed, the two of them had been regarded as the first newlyweds in Rosa, reason being that they were often seen encountering each other rather affectionately.
This wasn’t so rare an occurrence, however the title had stuck when rumor broke that The Princess Regent Darling had married for love, which was so rare an occurrence that the nobility was split between it being a term of endearment or dissent. It had only worked out because no one could quite tell when the couple was being fawned over or insulted.
Not that Roux could tell either, granted, the nobility had hardly a chance to lay their eyes upon him let alone the public. This being no fault of his own—Myrrh, Darling, and anyone else whose attention he’d inadvertently managed to grab heavily advised he not attempt to mingle with Rosatians too casually (or at all by a servant named Crow, who insisted they were crazy).
“The shops aren’t for you,” he’d said, “Ever.”
“Is that why they’re so deep in town?” Roux could respect that.
Crow nodded and threw the sprawling new sheets onto the bed, looking over to where Roux sat at the window, “The booths on the outskirts between the kingdom and this palace are for you. Don’t buy from there either.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’re run by crazy people, even though others will say they’re the only ones in their right mind.”
“Crazy people can sell quality goods.” This was true. Crazy people could devote themselves to their craft, Roux would know. He had spent his time as a kid locked away in offices or his room or a library, which was basically his room at some point, dissecting literature by theme, then by diction, then by line. And when he’d run out of individual words to find meaning in, he would turn to singular letters—poetry was good for things like that.
“Well yes,” Crow sighed, “but the best quality stuff here is what will kill you.”
The Rosatian people weren’t very fond of the Royal family and so by extension, Roux as well. He’d recalled this fact in the middle of a tangent Crow had willingly thrown himself head first into. Crow had a certain twang to his words that slipped out here and there, but only around the prince. He knew why. They both did. Although faint, the faded tan on his skin trailed down in familiar patterns on pieces of exposed skin and his ears shot to the sky the same way Roux’s did, casting a shadow over his face at noon.
“Is there any special reason you’re telling me this?” Roux shifted at the small table holding his lunch, “Don’t you feel any solidarity with the people on the outskirts? Revealing their schemes to end my life could regard you as a traitor,” he said with no real accusation to his words.
Crow shook his head, “I didn’t grow up in Rosa, I just work here—like you.”
“Mm…something like that.”
He shared this new information with Fig, who wasn’t quite as shocked but did admit that, of all the places they’ve been, Rosa had been the place with the most solidarity and the most rivalry. Roux had been inclined to agree.