A Fool's Bucket - Ch. 9.2

A/N: So, I was working out the logistics of some politics and realised that I need to retcon something in. When Buck was on the road, he heard that not only did the Queen not approve of who Erson wanted to marry, she was threatening to take him out of succession if he tried to be with him.

[The 12 rating is for allusion to alcohol as a coping device, and I'd like to mention a possible trigger warning for mentally abusive parenting.]

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Erson led them to a small dining room, with a simple table set for four in the middle. Buck could only make out its shape from the light spilling in from the corridor, until Erson stepped forward and picked something up from the side of the table. There was the sound of flint on steel, then a moment later a candle was lit. Myal ushered Buck forward as Erson rushed around the corners of the table, lighting three other candles. He gestured for Buck to take a seat, which Buck did, with Myal sitting next to him.

“Alright, I’m going to see what’s in the pantry,” Erson said, clapping his hands together. He nipped over to a door in the wooden panelling of the room. Quickly, he slipped inside, then re-emerged a few moments later, carrying a large wooden platter of bread, fruit and cheese. He placed it in the centre of the table and took the seat opposite Buck.

“Help yourself, Buttane,” Erson said. “If there’s one thing a nation of farmers can do it’s keep a pantry well stocked.”

Buck smiled and took a piece of thick bread with a hard crust. He placed a piece of cheese on top and tucked in, as Erson poured him a glass of red wine from a decanter in the middle of the table. They ate and chatted for a while, which in such a small dark room was cosy and pleasant. Buck noticed after a while that Myal was starting to loosen up a bit, making jokes at Erson’s expense. At one point, she even started giving her brother relationship advice.

“I still say you should just tell everyone,” Myal said. “Not everyone will react the way Mum did. Look at Buttane! He clearly doesn’t care.”

Buck glanced at Erson, who didn’t seem to be rushing to move the subject along in front of him. Instead he was smiling with pursed lips at his little sister, lines at the sides of his eyes making Buck think the smile was slightly sad.

Buck rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Well, I’ve been about a bit. Plenty of places see nothing unusual in two men having a relationship. I’ve never had a boyfriend… not really had the time. But I’d be open to it. Or anyone. Well, not anyone, but it could be anyone. Wow, I am not getting any better at explaining this.”

Erson sighed and fidgeted with some grape stems. “I don’t know where you’ve been, but somehow I don’t think everyone up here will be so open. Not about their prince.”

An idea sprang into Buck’s mind, jolting him awake from the slumber he’d been slipping into. He set his wine glass down on the table as calmly as he could and leaned back, steepling his fingers.

“What about their king?” Buck asked.

“Sorry?” Erson blinked, looking over to them.

“Well, if you were king, you could just change how things are, right? Marry who you like?”

Erson frowned, glancing from Buck to Myal and back. “Yes… But if I don’t marry someone my mother approves of that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

Buck nodded; he’d heard that on the road. He took a deep breath, and prepared to take a second run at what had caused the mess at Pires’s palace. “Why don’t you marry someone – just on paper. Then when you’re king, split apart, and you and Raddig can be together.”

Erson rubbed his eyes and squinted at him. “Who in the world would agree to that?”

Buck bit his lip in an attempt not to smirk. “Well, I’ve heard that Pires of Resador isn’t averse to a good scheme.”

Erson’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you know, that’s the third time I’ve had marriage to Pires suggested to me this month?”

Buck started to shake his head instinctively, not giving away what he knew. Then he realised what number Erson had said. “Wait, third?”

“Yes, first her little fool. Then when she sent him away I thought perhaps I could trust her. Barely a week later and she’s suggesting it herself, even more blatantly.” He shook his head. “That’s why I jumped in my carriage and hurried back up here. Just wanted to get away from it all. I just want to live and be happy!”

Myal reached forward and took his hand in one of hers, stroking it with the other. He gave her that pursed lips smile again and this time it was clear his eyes were straining to hold back tears.

“Well, that’s fair enough,” Buck said. Internally, he was wincing at Pires. Sometimes she had lack patience, it was true. But he had thought she was better at the long game than that. “But I think it might be worth taking her up on her offer. From, uh, what I’ve heard, if you set her up with plenty of compensation when the time came to split, I reckon she’d be happy to go along with the subterfuge.” He almost mentioned that he’d have to put some time into finding his father, but caught himself in time. For all Erson knew, Buttane’s father was away fighting in the war.

Erson drew his hands away from Myal and ran them through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

Buck could have punched the air, with all the power of the tension that had been building up in him, ever since that horrible last night in Resador.

“Okay,” he said, holding his breath to keep from shrieking with delight. He could work with a ‘I’ll think about it’. He could apply more layers of logic, keep working away at it. He’d get there in the end. “Cool.”

There was a knock on the door and Buck twisted around to see a little ball of candlelight in the doorway. When his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was Queen Merhen in a silvery satin dressing gown. She peered in at them and Buck wondered if perhaps she would recognise him instead. He dropped his gaze.

“Erson, Myal, good evening. I need to talk to you tomorrow, Erson. The meeting room, about an hour after dawn,” she said, frowning at them all. “So don’t drink yourself into a trance before the morning, yes?”

Erson set his glass of wine down on the table. “Yes, Mum.”

Merhen nodded. “Alright. Goodnight, all.”

“Night, Mum,” Myal said, her voice rising high and sweet like it had when she’d asked Erson what he thought of the performances.

As Merhen walked away along the corridor, Erson picked his wine glass up and took a large gulp, draining the last of it.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” he said. “Goodnight, both. Feel free to stay up, but please don’t be too loud.”

Buck and Myal both said goodnight, then he pushed his chair out and stood up in one fast, stiff motion. He trudged off with shoulders slumped towards the back of the room where Buck hadn’t even noticed there were another two doors. He threw the left one open, and slammed it behind him.

“Did, uh, did I say something?” Buck asked, tension starting to creep back into his stomach. “I have heard he doesn’t like to talk about marriage.”

Myal shook her head, pouring him another drink. “Don’t worry about it. He gets in a bad mood whenever he talks to Mum.”

Buck raised an eyebrow at the glass. “And you drink?”

She grinned at him and held up her own glass. “I spend time with my friends.”

Buck laughed and clinked his glass against hers. “That you do, my friend.”