Chapter Text
The remaining sunlight ebbed away from the horizon, the beams that once shot through his office window dimming, and eventually disappearing. His office was left dark and cold once more, the only light left emitting from a candle. The wax was shallow in the drip pan. Ink raced across the paper in swirls and waves, stopping only to dab more ink onto the tip of the pen only for it to run down onto the paper once again as the cycle continued.
Roux doesn’t know how long he’s been cooped up here. Amongst the bookshelves and piles of papers, whoever pokes their head in might not see him at first glance, and so no one gets a chance to drag him out. Besides that though, he’s always had a knack for making himself invisible, and if someone’s eyes did land upon him, his appearance often steered them away from talking to him. Not that he wanted to anyway. That being said; with how dark the room is now, it’s very likely he’ll spend the rest of the night here. Buried in his words. Exactly where he likes it.
It was like this back at home too. Even as the eldest child he was able to escape from the watchful eyes of the estate so long as he spent his time in the study room. Back then there was only one person who could ever locate his exact location; his kid brother.
It began as children when he’d seek out Roux with teary, red eyes over something that had seemed so big at the time. Looking back, nothing he wailed over even seemed to matter now, but Roux would play his part and comfort him as best he could. Occasionally he might scold him, as an older brother should, he thought. As they got older his brother didn’t cry so much, though he could still pinpoint Roux amongst the lengthy halls and endless rooms.
The last time he saw his brother though, Roux was the one crying.
He should have been happy, really, and to an extent, he was. He had been wed off to a princess in another kingdom after passing the courting process over all the other potential suitors. If you asked him now, he still couldn’t tell you how he managed it. Roux acted as his usual self (minus the blunt and sudden answers), droopy eye and all, which he had stopped hiding a few years prior. As usual, he did not stick out. In fact, he felt more invisible than ever. Eyes glazed over him without so much as a glance and when people bumped into him, they didn’t look back. Part of him doubted his presence there. It wasn’t that he didn’t belong per se. But…well to put it simply, his family lived below their means. The other suitors certainly did not.
The room, already glimmering with crystals and gold trim, shined even brighter with all of the guests. Roux had been drowned out.
Not to the princess though.
It was odd, the attention she gave him. It seemed that even through the crowd she gravitated towards him. Back then he’d never even thought about it, but it became apparent later on that she was looking for him. Him specifically.
And she had found him. Every time.
Maybe it was because he was drowned out by everyone else that he therefore stood out, however, he could never understand what prompted Her Majesty to take his cold gaze and stiff posture as an invitation. Regardless, she and him talked for what seemed the whole night, and when she invited him to dance and Roux froze and Darling laughed, he finally understood what it felt like to have someone’s eyes on him and only him.
It was scary. It was riveting. He didn’t notice how smoothly she dragged him to the dance floor and how quickly the music ended. It was only by the end that he became aware of how sore his throat had become. Roux savored the moment enough to replay it in his mind forever after.
As it turned out, he wouldn’t have to imagine it at all. A few months later he’d been delivered a letter notifying him of his status and the day of the wedding.
As fun a night as he had with her previously, his stomach twisted at the implication. Questions invaded his mind late into the night, and the evening before he was to be sent off, he did not get a lick of sleep. He’d probably arrived at the castle looking worse for wear, but Darling didn’t seem to mind. His nervousness was for naught. She gazed at him just as she had when they first met and he felt his heart flood through his whole body. The night of the wedding after all of the guests had bid their farewells, the two of them sat in bed early into the next morning caught in conversation, rambling about who knows what. Even they couldn’t recall if they were asked today. All that they remembered was how late they’d slept in the next day. Not that anyone minded.
One day long after they had gotten married, Roux asked why Darling chose him over everyone else. She had only laughed, kissed him on the cheek and said, ‘You looked sweet.’
That was the only answer he needed.
Tonight, the door to his office creaks open and the light of a lantern floods the room. His candle had long since gone out.
She can’t see him at first, as usual amongst the clutter, but she locates him soon enough. His pen has abandoned his fingers and his head lays in his palm as light snoring fills the room.
She places her hand on his back, smoothing out the creases in his shirt and shaking him awake. Roux’s eye blinks open slowly and the two exchange something that can’t quite be heard by the other body laying on a couch in the back of the room. They weren’t invited, but their presence is always welcome.
Darling exits with her husband, wishing Fig a silent ‘Goodnight’ from where he lays somewhere in one of the corners of the room, and steps out into the hall again. A familiar guard greets the two of them and is acknowledged fondly.
The rest of the night plays out quietly, and if anyone hears a spat between The Guard and The Intruder, no one makes a fuss.