The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis leaned back into the comfortable cushions of the royal chamber's sofa, his gaze flickering between the mirror and Serelith, who was sprawled on the floor, controller in hand, her eyes fixed on the screen with a determined glint. The sounds of cheerful game music and occasional clicks of the controller filled the room. Serelith, for once, seemed to have dropped her usual teasing nature. Instead, her full focus was on beating the game. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she worked through the challenge on the screen.

"Serelith, I never thought I'd see the day you'd get this serious over a game," Mikhailis quipped, a smile playing on his lips.

Serelith didn't even glance at him, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Hush, Your Highness," she said, her voice carrying a rare note of concentration.

"I am so close to defeating this spirit sprite's quest."

Mikhailis let out a small laugh, his gaze shifting to Lira, who was arranging his clothes with meticulous care. She gave Serelith a glance filled with both amusement and annoyance.

"Honestly, Lady Serelith, it's as if you've forgotten we have a banquet to attend," Lira commented, her tone filled with mock exasperation.

Mikhailis looked back to the mirror as Lira adjusted the collar of his shirt, her fingers moving with practiced precision. She'd already brushed out his hair, ensuring it looked effortlessly presentable, not that he cared much about appearances. He was supposed to be just decor for the night—something that could be looked at but not taken too seriously.

"You know, Lira," Mikhailis said, a lazy grin spreading across his face, "you don't need to work so hard on making me look good. I'm only here to be the 'relaxed' consort, remember? I'm basically a walking decoration."

Lira let out a sigh, rolling her eyes.

"A consort still has an image to uphold, Your Highness," she said, tugging at his sleeves.

"You may wish to come off as indifferent, but as long as I'm here, I will make sure you look the part."

He shrugged, giving her a soft smile.

"Alright, alright. If you insist, Lira. But remember, no matter how polished I look, I'll still act like the 'lazy' guy. That's my role."

Lira smirked, shaking her head.

"As if you'd be any different even without the role, Your Highness."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. She had a point, and Lira knew him better than most. He watched her as she continued with the final touches, her movements precise and elegant. Lira, with her long black ponytail and composed demeanor, always managed to exude an air of grace that Mikhailis admired. Even as she worked, there was a slight smile on her face, and he could see the affection behind her eyes—affection she tried to mask behind her sarcastic quips.

From across the room, Serelith let out a triumphant cry.

"Ha! Take that, spirit sprite!" She beamed, her eyes sparkling as she finally looked up from the screen. She turned towards Mikhailis and Lira, her mischievous smile returning.

"See? I'm more than capable of handling anything—whether it's magic or farming virtual crops."

"Yes, yes, Lady Serelith," Lira replied with a smirk, her tone teasing.

"But perhaps next time you could prioritize your duties over video games?"

Serelith waved a dismissive hand, her grin widening.

"Oh, Lira, you're just upset because I got further in the game than you did."

Lira's cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced away.

"I am not upset," she said, her tone haughty.

"I simply have more important things to attend to."

Mikhailis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Ladies, ladies, let's not turn this into a competition. Besides, Serelith, you really should get ready. We have a banquet to attend, remember?"

Serelith pouted, but she slowly set the controller down.

"Fine, fine," she said, standing up and stretching. She walked over to the mirror, fixing her hair and adjusting her robes. She shot Mikhailis a playful smile.

"But mark my words, Your Highness, I'm going to beat that game before Lira does."

Mikhailis shook his head, a smile still on his face.

"I have no doubt about that, Serelith. Just don't forget you have real responsibilities too."

Lira finished adjusting Mikhailis's attire and stepped back, giving him an appraising look. She nodded in satisfaction.

"There. At least now you look presentable," she said, her tone approving.

Mikhailis glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He did look the part of a royal consort—his attire neatly pressed, his hair combed, and his posture (mostly) straightened out. He let out a small sigh, turning to Lira.

"Thanks, Lira," he said, his voice softer.

"I know I give you a hard time, but I do appreciate everything you do."

Lira blinked in surprise at the sudden sincerity, and a gentle smile spread across her lips.

"It is my duty, Your Highness," she replied, her tone gentler now.

"And besides... it's what I want to do."

Mikhailis gave her a warm smile before glancing over at Serelith, who was now fiddling with her hair.

"Alright then, let's go play our parts at this grand event," he said, his tone light and playful once more.

"After all, we wouldn't want to keep our dear prince friend waiting."

___

The banquet hall was a sight to behold, adorned with rich decorations that spoke of the kingdom's prosperity and grandeur. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their lights casting a warm glow over the sea of nobles and dignitaries who had gathered for the occasion. The clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the hall, creating an atmosphere of festivity mixed with formality.

Mikhailis entered the hall, accompanied by Lira, who kept a dignified step behind him. He glanced around, noting the various faces, some familiar, others not. There were a few cautious glances directed at him, which he expected. After all, his role as the 'relaxed' consort wasn't exactly typical, and many of the nobles were still unsure of what to make of him.

He made his way towards the high table, where Elowen stood, her golden eyes searching for him amidst the crowd. The moment their eyes met, she gave him a soft, apologetic smile. As he approached, she took his arm, leaning in close to whisper.

"Sorry, I thought we could have some peace tonight."

Mikhailis looked down at her, his lazy smile never faltering.

"It's fine," he whispered back, his tone light.

"Besides, I'd say this kind of chaos is a given by now."

Elowen sighed, her expression softening as she looked at him.

"You always manage to make light of things, even when I know it must be tiring for you. This is not part of our agreement, after all,"

He gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"Hey, that's my job. Keep things light, keep you smiling. And besides," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "I'm just here to be the arm candy, right?"

Elowen shook her head, her lips curling into a small smile.

"You know it's more than that, Mikhailis."

He shrugged, still smiling.

"Well, let's just see how tonight goes, shall we? Maybe I'll get to show off my skills in... standing around and looking pretty."

She laughed softly, squeezing his arm.

"Thank you," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Mikhailis felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Always, my Queen,"

She gave him a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the hall as the trumpets blared, announcing the arrival of the royals. The conversations quieted down, and all eyes turned towards the grand entrance.

Prince Laethor Idryn made his grand entrance, his entourage following behind in a display of power and wealth. He wore a richly designed outfit, golden embroidery and accents woven into the dark fabric. His blonde hair was styled meticulously, framing his face in a way that enhanced his regal presence. His confident smile never wavered as he walked into the hall, his eyes sweeping over the gathered crowd.

There was an audible murmur among the attendees, their eyes drawn to the prince's grand display. Mikhailis watched from the high table, his gaze narrowing slightly as Laethor's eyes finally settled on Elowen—and then shifted to him. There was a flicker of something in the prince's gaze—amusement, perhaps? Or was it challenge?

Of course, he'd want to make a show of it, Mikhailis thought, his smile widening into something lazier, almost dismissive.

Prince Laethor strode across the hall, his entourage splitting off to join the other nobles. He made his way to the high table, bowing slightly before speaking, his voice carrying just enough volume to be heard clearly by those around them.

"Your Majesty, Queen Elowen," he greeted, his smile as polished as his attire. "It is an honor to be in your presence once more."

Elowen gave a polite nod, her expression neutral.

"Prince Laethor, your visit was certainly unexpected. Nevertheless, we welcome you to Silvarion Thalor."

Laethor turned his gaze to Mikhailis, his eyes appraising.

"And of course, it is a pleasure to meet Her Majesty's consort," he added, his tone light, though the hint of sarcasm was unmistakable.

"I must say, Queen Elowen is fortunate to have such a... relaxed partner to help shoulder her burdens."

Mikhailis kept his lazy smile intact, meeting Laethor's gaze without a hint of unease.

"I find that giving Her Majesty the space she needs is the best way I can support her," he replied, his voice equally light.

"Not everyone sees the value in subtlety, after all."

Laethor's smile stiffened slightly, but he quickly recovered, giving a small laugh.

"Indeed. It is always wise to know when to step back." He turned his attention back to Elowen, dismissing Mikhailis from his focus.

Mikhailis watched him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a soft breath.

Alright, Laethor. Let's see how far you think you can push.

___

The banquet progressed, and the atmosphere shifted as Prince Laethor took the opportunity to address the gathered nobles. His voice was smooth, confident, and carried just enough weight to draw everyone's attention. He spoke of alliances, of shared interests between Silvarion Thalor and Serewyn, his words careful and diplomatic. But then, his tone changed—his demeanor becoming more earnest, his eyes locking onto Elowen.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, "I wish to formally propose an alliance between our two great kingdoms—through marriage."

There was an audible gasp from the gathered nobles, ripples of surprise and shock moving through the room. Laethor's gaze remained fixed on Elowen, his expression open, almost sincere.

"A union between Silvarion Thalor and Serewyn would bring prosperity, security, and strength to both our lands. Together, we could achieve greatness—a future where our people thrive, united as one."

Elowen's eyes widened slightly, her expression one of restrained surprise. Vyrelda, standing beside her, stiffened, her hand moving to rest on the hilt of her sword. Prime Minister Aelthrin's expression rarely darkened, and he leaned forward, his voice low and firm.

Wow, this old man rarely got mad.

"Prince Laethor, your proposal is both sudden and inappropriate. Queen Elowen already has a husband."

Laethor turned his gaze to Aelthrin, his smile never faltering.

"I understand your concern, Prime Minister," he said smoothly. "But I believe that such matters must be considered for the greater good. A union of our two kingdoms could prevent unnecessary conflict and ensure lasting peace."

Mikhailis watched the scene unfold, his eyes narrowing. He could see the way Laethor's words were calculated—the way he stressed mutual benefits, the way he hinted at the consequences of refusal. He glanced at Elowen, her expression carefully guarded, though he could see the unease in her eyes.

Alright, Laethor, Mikhailis thought, his gaze hardening slightly.

Let's see how far your plan is.

"Oh my, sure the prince of Serewyn sure know how to make a joke," Elowen laughed.

That was a great call.

Acting as if it is a joke, the tension finally subsided. Even if it's just a tiny bit.

Of course, the prince know that The Great Queen of Silvarion Thalor won't be an easy opponent.

"Of course. I just believe that sometimes ideals could be similar to a joke, Your Majesty,"

The banquet continued, the tension in the air palpable. Prince Laethor didn't miss the opportunity to turn his attention back to Mikhailis, his smile widening as he addressed the gathered nobles.

"Of course," he said, his voice light, "every kingdom needs a strong foundation. And while some might be content to lounge around, I believe that true leaders must always be proactive—must always seek to do more for their people."

There was a ripple of murmurs among the nobles, their eyes shifting to Mikhailis. Elowen's gaze snapped towards Laethor, a flash of anger in her eyes. But before she could speak, Mikhailis placed his hand over hers, his touch gentle, calming her.

He looked up, his lazy smile still intact, and spoke, his voice carrying just enough to be heard by those around him.

"Prince Laethor, you make an excellent point," he said, his tone light, almost amused.

"But sometimes, doing more means knowing when to step back. After all, not every battle is won with a sword in hand. And as someone who possess a silver tongue like you, know best, no?"

There was a brief pause, and then—to Mikhailis's satisfaction—a few nobles chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly. Laethor's smile stiffened once more, but he quickly masked it, nodding as if in agreement.

Elowen looked at Mikhailis, her eyes softening as she squeezed his arm in silent gratitude. He could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes—gratitude for diffusing the situation, but also frustration that she hadn't been able to speak up herself.

Mikhailis leaned in slightly, his voice low.

"It's alright," he whispered.

"We'll deal with this in our own way—in our own time."

She nodded, her eyes meeting his.

"Thank you," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

"For being here—for understanding."

Mikhailis gave her a small, reassuring smile, his gaze shifting back to Laethor, who was now engaged in conversation with one of the other nobles.

You want a fight, Laethor? I'll give you one—but not in the way you expect.

As the banquet continued, Mikhailis felt a sense of determination settle in his chest. He might be seen as nothing more than a decoration, but he had his own strengths—strengths that didn't require grand displays or public confrontations. He would protect Elowen, protect their kingdom, in his own way.

And if Laethor wanted to play games, Mikhailis was more than ready to match him.

Rodion's voice echoed in his mind, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

<I'm afraid, Mikhailis, this beautiful foreign prince has struck the wrong chord with the wrong person.>

Mikhailis smiled, his gaze never leaving Laethor.

You're absolutely right, Rodion.