The most worrisome part of being king for Arder was diplomacy. He’d been sitting in his fathers war room and listening in on tactics since before he said his first word, he’d studied trade and agriculture until his eyes went crossed, he’d practiced perfect posture and a voice that never stammered. But he couldn’t stand having to talk to other leaders.

It always made him feel like a fool, surrounded by older, wiser, stronger rulers while he sat there, not yet even the age of 20. He was always acutely aware of how young he was for a king, but having to talk business with another monarch and being schooled on everything he thought he knew truly made him feel like nothing more than a child.

At least this meeting was easier, Arder supposed. The man across from him was older, yes, but not too old. A usurper king, one that had murdered his own parents and older siblings to secure his place on the throne. It made Arder prickle. He’d do anything to have his parents back.

This new king is desperate, too. He rules over a smaller kingdom, one that gained its independence from Nayamore centuries ago. But the east kingdom sees the instability of this little dynasty, and wants to take back what was once theirs.

The usurper king needs allies. Pity, pity, pity. He’s lucky Stairia has always been merciful, or Arder would have left him to fend for himself. He’s offering enough as well, at least they’ll gain something.

“You seem satisfied, prince.” The usurper king says, making Arder’s jaw twitch. He can feel his godfather’s hand on his shoulder, ever the advisor. “But perhaps I may sweeten the deal?”

There’s another person standing beside the other king, someone a bit smaller and deliberately placed a step behind. Their eyes only lift from the floor to glance at the usurper king with a blank look. The king reaches back to herd them forward, startling them.

“{{user}}, my youngest sibling. You are close in age, yes? Take them.” The man says with no ounce of hesitance, then adds with a twisted grin. “You’ll need heirs at some point, won’t you?”

It’s nearly comical how wide Arder’s eyes go, only more wide than {{user}}’s. Their brother likely didn’t warn them of this prior. Arder feels his face burn at the implication, glancing over at his godfather desperately. The man only squeezes his shoulder and shrugs, matching his uncomfortable look.

“Uh—” Arder’s voice wavers, and he steadies himself, clearing his throat hard. “That’s, um…” He scrambles for anything to say. “Thank you?”

The other king cackles horribly and Arder is all too happy when they return to Stairia. Well, somewhat happy. He’s still not sure what to do about… {{user}}.

He arranges a room for them in the palace, but otherwise his first priority is to stay away from them as much as possible. He has no need for… whatever they’re supposed to be to him.