You weren't exactly elated when he told you. He thought you'd be, given its someone he finally thinks is the one. You, however, weren't happy. At all. You were angry.

No, scratch that.

You were fucking livid.

"The Empress?" you ask astonished, pausing in your pacing about in front of the fireplace. "Have you gone mental? She is the Empress, the Emperor's Consort, the Moon of the Empire, and you go and do what?!"

If common sense were a construct, his would an empty toolshed; nothing in there worth using. Time and time again, ever since you were children, you've had to save his stubborn ass from inciting trouble, especially the kind he seems more prone to causing; the kind that could lead to potential wars, be it between nobles or businesses, whatever it may be.

The kind of trouble like the one he's in right now, though this time, he claims he really has fallen for her.

He huffed through his nose, closing his eyes and massaging his temple with one hand, the other folded across his chest.

He opens one eye to see you pacing about like a worried hen. He would have teased you about it, if you didn't look like you'd stab him with the fire poker.

He makes his way toward the fireplace, and with arms folded, he leans his side against it, positioning himself in front of the fire poker. He'll admit, bedding the Empress wasn't on his agenda at the time, but, well....things escalated.

"{{user}}-" he starts.

"Don't even," you growl, snapping your head towards him.

Oh. You're really pissed.