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crepegosette · 11 months
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okay okay, but listen me out, NedCan selkie/fisherman au. Matt’s a selkie that gets injured after swimming away from hunters, and Jan’s a fisherman who finds him and treats him, and Matt gets feels for him, know what i’m sayin
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ashafox · 1 year
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Loving the NedPanCan resurgence
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roszabell · 7 months
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He's just not that into you, Matty!!! Or maybe just bad at aftercare..... (<-me when I'm lying)
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stirringwinds · 1 year
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we’ll meet again someday. people who’ve been as close as we’ve been always meet again.
😔 so, i’m having brainrot for the concept of 1990s ned/can distancing due to ned/pan rekindling: fifty years is a long and meaningful human marriage. but nations exist beyond human lifetimes, bearing centuries upon centuries of feelings and histories. and maybe, that’s where the gulf in experiences between a younger and older nation emerges: the sentiment that ‘i still hold gratitude and affection for you—but he and i were together for 300 years before that. i thought it ended—but i’m feeling that pull once more.’ the painting is a print of van gogh’s ‘almond blossoms’, which was influenced by hokusai’s ‘bullfinch and weeping cherry’ and hiroshige’s ‘plum park in kameido.’
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apersonwholikeslotus · 5 months
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Canada, talking about Netherlands: and he’s smart and funny.
Canada: the only problem is he’s always wearing clogs
USA: Absolutely not.
USA: Unless he’s a doctor, a chef, or a tulip salesman you don’t need to be dating men who wear clogs.
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ego-meliorem-esse · 1 year
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Oh pls pls pls pls get on the nedcan/nedpan bandwagon pls
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Oh yesss the new (rather old at this point) helltalia shitstorm!
To be completely honest I am kinda torn between two ways Matt would cope with Jan get all buddy-buddy again with Kiku.
On one hand I love my pathethic bitch boy Matthew so much and seeing him suffer bc of it is fantastic. Like him experiencing what it means to be a nation and seeing someone you love dearly turn to another over time is /chefs kiss/ exactly what my angst desiring heart needs. Nations can absolutely love as dearly and as hard as any human but problems arise when one gets to live for millenia. You fall in love and that feeling is intense. Though, as with humans, that love can sizzle out and fade over time. Especially over a long time. Older nations such as Jan know this and have experienced it in their lifetimes. Whereas Matt is hit by that realization for the first time in his life. And him dealing with it, along with an existwncial crissis is mwah mwah mwah.
On the other hand, Matt is my pathetic lil fella, my absolutely self-destructive lad. He had his fair share of heart aches in his life. Sure, they may have not been due to romantic endevours, but he certanly knows the truth of the world. Whereas Alfred is idealistic and protects himself from the cruelty of the world unknowingly to himself, Matt was raised on that knowledge/feeling. The abandonment by those who swore they loved him, the constant need to prove his worth to others. Yes Matt would be heartbroken, but Matt has whitnessed abandonment greater than this. He will be sad and throw up once or twice, but it was something he was expecting. He has been shown again and again by others that love fades and is not without conditions. So naturally my boy keeps whoring and hoeing around like he always has despite a slight ache in his heart warning him of what could have been.
So in short, no idea man. I just love angsty Matt.
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hetagrammy · 1 year
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I’m hopping on the NedPan/NedCan drama bandwagon
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myel-stress-wd · 9 months
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I recently joined this boat… cute nedcan (when they're well😭)
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nedcanweek · 26 days
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Hello everyone! This post is going out later than I meant it to. Anyway, NedCan week is ago for 2024 and will be taking place May 12th-19th. Prompt requests are open and will be until March 17.
@hetaliahappenings @heta-on-the-books @hetaliacalendar
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selkiest · 10 months
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may 21st @nedcanweek the prompt coffee shop! this is my last one for the event, i hope folks enjoyed my gay men
here’s the disgruntled artist who just so happens to love the coffee here, and mr barista who likes to watch him work
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lopsidedtreetrunks · 1 year
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I'm a bit late to the drama but guys, there's a simple solution you're all overlooking
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crepegosette · 1 year
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arrives at the nedpan-nedcan telenovela many years late anyway the drama amrite
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koolkat9 · 5 months
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Honestly...kind of want to rp. A lot of times I've tried it fizzled out before we really began...But I want to try still.
I've rped England, Canada, Wales, Ukraine and I'm open to rping Germany (since I write him a lot in fics)
My main ships are of course Gereng, NedCan, Cucan, Engukr. But I'm open to most Germany, Canada and England ships.
I'm also into family dynamics like royal red bros, Atlantic bros, UK bros, etc.
I'm not picky on style. Just no permanent character death or noncon. But I'm open to NSFW, just no water sports or scat.
I'm looking for a partner strictly 18+
I think that's all, DM if interested.
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coralcatsea · 6 months
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Bonus: Ships I like in theory but don't talk about as often
✅✅✅ Definitely approve
✅✅ Like sometimes
✅ Like every once in a while
Russia x France ✅✅✅
Spain x Romano ✅✅✅
Prussia x Romano ✅✅✅
Prussia x Lithuania ✅✅
Prussia x Hungary ✅✅✅
Austria x Hungary ✅✅
Greece x Japan ✅✅✅
England x Portugal ✅✅
America x Prussia ✅
America x France ✅
Netherlands x Canada ✅
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thegoliathbeetle · 4 months
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fic request: NedCan, arranged marriage au, with a CURSE 🥺
do your thing, angst queen
Absent Moon
Prince Matthew and his new husband, King Jan von Aldenberg of the Crown of Tulips, are off to a rocky start. Jan ignores him, making Matthew think he’s bedding someone else. However, the truth is a darker thing, and if Matthew wants to save his marriage, he’s going to have to rely on a gift he once thought was a curse.
Arranged Marriage AU (Inspired by Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story)
Also on AO3
xx.
Later, they will say it was an omen that the baby is born premature, and breached. Wise men and soothsayers are full of omens. They will say it was a portent that the boy was conceived on a full moon night, and that his pregnant mother always felt hot. When the queen’s heart fails in labour, when her blood soaks the sheets and doctors and magicians alike can’t revive her breath, they will whisper that she was carrying a devil. But it all pales to what they will say when the baby is cleaned and jerked and made to cry. His wail is a loud, splintering screech, and a shadow falls over the moon. 
xx.
“Mattie? Are you still mad at me?”
Matthew spares his brother a cold glance and turns back to the window. Nothing he says matters, so he’s not going to talk. Alfred sighs, then hisses in annoyance as their carriage bounces over a stone in the path. He pats Matthew’s knee. Even through the layers of Matthew’s clothing, he can feel his brother’s warmth. It radiates off his skin. He has eyes like a blazing afternoon sun and a head like a field of maize. Even his complexion is a sun-kissed tan. He’s almost a cliché. But royals like clichés. 
And in typical cliché fashion, Matthew is the spare and the problem child, so it’s best to marry him off to a kingdom so far away that he has been effectively banished. 
“Matt, come on,” Alfred whines. “Look, if I didn’t think this was the best choice—”
“It wasn’t your choice to make,” Matthew says. He rubs his hands under the blanket on his lap, but it’s pointless. He is always cold. It doesn’t bother him, he’s used to it by now. But Alfred’s warmth only brings out his own frostiness in sharp relief. 
“Well, someone had to make it.” Alfred’s nostrils flare. They’ve had this argument round and round for the last several weeks. “We were on the brink of war! And we wouldn’t have won. The Tulips agreed to send us naval aid…not to mention grain! All in exchange for your hand.” 
“No,” Matthew corrects him. “They just wanted someone’s hand. Some schmuck to marry their king, because for some reason, nobody wants to marry him. He must be very ugly,” Matthew adds with a bitter undertone, sinking deeper into his uncomfortable seat and crossing his arms. He’s being childish now, he knows, but if Alfred intends to steal his agency and treat him like a child anyway, there’s not much else he can do. 
“King Jan is not ugly. I’ve seen him.” 
“Cruel, then.” Matthew stares at his brother and all he feels is sadness. They used to be friends, once. Now Alfred is selling him off to a cruel man. 
“Hey,” Alfred says gently. “I would never put you in danger. You’re my brother. But father is dead. The kingdom is on the verge of being overrun by enemies. The court is at my throat. This is the only way to save all of us. Matthew, honestly, you’re kind of being a hero here.” 
“Don’t patronise me.” There’s the other reason, too. The reason Alfred would never admit to aloud. The real reason the Summer Court was so eager to marry Matthew off. They think he’s bad luck. They blame his very birth for the tidal storms that have rocked their sea every year, demolishing their mercantile strength. But they won’t say it aloud. It’d be considered treason. So they sign away his freedom to a far-flung land and hope that Matthew’s ill-fated birth—his dark, shameful secret—never gets out.
And above all Matthew is a prince. So he fights and curses Alfred and sharpens his rage but in the end does nothing with it. He is duty-bound. So he says, “Whatever. At least the Crown of Tulips is a very rich country.” 
“That’s right,” Alfred nods, tone brightening, “You’ll be one of the richest people in the Continent. It’s much better than being a spare prince to some nowhere hick kingdom like ours!” 
xx.
At least, Alfred had not lied. About any of it. 
The Crown of Tulips is prepared for their arrival. The carriage pulls into the main mall where people on both sides of the street throw bright flowers—tulips, of course—in their path. The buildings are all arched statued and gleaming and there is an air of wealth and wellness that Matthew has not experienced before. Even the gold in their kingdom doesn’t shine as bright as the copper domes here, and it occurs to Matthew then that he marrying up, therefore, he does not have much to offer. It means he has to make this work, because there will be no escape. 
Alfred grins at the crowds and waves and sends flying kisses their way. He is a natural king. Matthew swallows some nausea. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay because there is no other choice. 
“You look great,” Alfred promises, and Matthew stares down at his silken clothes. He is wearing white and gold. The colours of a Summer bride. It might offend the Tulip King. 
The carriage goes through the palace gates. Matthew and Alfred are greeted at the door by a dozen people of various importance. The first few hours are a blur and Matthew is so exhausted he can barely do anything but smile and nod. He and Alfred are given huge rooms, and Matthew is put through an hours-long beauty routine that involves bathing in floral oils and having his teeth checked like he’s a horse about to be auctioned. 
At lunch he meets Princess Anri, the king’s sister, who is herself married to the prince of a neighbouring kingdom. She tells him what Alfred has been saying all this time: “My brother, King Jan, will be most pleased to make your acquaintance. He has been eager to lay eyes on you. Many find him quiet, and therefore intimidating, but he is just shy.” 
“Matthew is shy too,” Alfred says enthusiastically. 
“Then they will certainly understand each other!” 
Yeah. Right. Matthew smells a rat. He just doesn’t have a good feeling about any of this. It takes forever but he manages to extricate himself of his brother and his future in-laws and the coterie of guards and servants that watch his every move and want him to sparkle like a doll. God, he hates this. The benefit of being an irrelevant royal in an irrelevant kingdom was that people left him alone. His new life is going to be unbearable. No, he can’t, he can’t agree to this! 
But Alfred won’t listen so Matthew must find an escape on his own. 
There is a tree in the garden that’s tall enough that its branches hang over the palace wall. If Matthew can climb it, he will be free. He doesn’t know what he’ll do after he gets out, but he has a prince’s education so surely he can make himself useful. He can’t stay here. Duty be damned. 
He and Alfred used to climb trees all the time in their boyhood, but never in such nonsensical clothes. The silks are slippery like water, and the fabric is so voluminous that it keeps snagging on the bark. He is able to clamber up to the top of the tree, but his foot gets caught in the hem of his stupid robes—
Matthew hears a rip. A crack. And a cry. The cry comes from his lips. And he’s falling ten feet backwards. 
A stinging sensation spreads across his body as he hits the ground, and for some reason, his first thought is: If I broke one of my teeth in the fall, maybe they will consider me ineligible. Sadly, all his teeth are perfectly intact. Matthew rolls on his side, groaning as he pushes himself up. He blinks past the haze and pain, and finds himself staring at a pair of very large black riding boots. 
He raises his head. 
Okay, wow—the man is tall. He seems to go on forever. He stares at Matthew with an upturned eyebrow and flat lips, his hands resting casually on his belt. His white shirt is unbuttoned and exposes broad, manscapped chest. His gaze is utterly searing. 
“Need help?” he asks. 
“No…I’m fine,” Matthew mumbles, embarrassed, and pushes himself up. He stumbles as he stands. His skin burns terribly and is sticky with something. He glances down grimly and sees it: his trouser is torn, his leg is exposed, and blood leaks down a large gash just below his knee.
The man slowly removes his riding gloves. Matthew flushes at the sight of his large hands, which steady Matthew around the elbows. Luckily his sleeves hide his skin. Jan can’t know how cold he is—not before the wedding, at least. If the secret must come out, it must be after.
“You’re hurt.” 
“It’s just a scrape.” 
“You should not walk.” He brings Matthew’s arm around his shoulders as they three-legged-man-limp towards his chestnut mare. “You are Matthew, correct?” 
“Prince Matthew,” he corrects. “Yes, I am.” 
“Ah. What is a noble prince such as yourself doing climbing trees?” 
“You are too impertinent for a guard,” he snaps back. “You should learn to hold your tongue.” 
He tilts his head, as if thinking. They have reached his horse. Matthew swats away the man’s help and climbs aboard the saddle himself, though it is difficult and painful and awkward. “Where to, Your Highness?” says the man.
Matthew grits his teeth, and grips the reins. “Anywhere. Away from here. I have to get out before I get married.” 
“Ah.” He raises his eyebrow. There’s a faint scar, right there. Matthew wants to touch it. “I simply cannot allow that.” 
“You would deny the request of a prince?” Matthew demands, though he’s honestly just tired and frustrated. 
“I would not deny you anything, Your Highness.” He pauses. “But for the fact that I am compelled to marry by my court, and that you have a face that is difficult to let go of.” 
Matthew suddenly wishes the fall had killed him. Crap, crap, crap. “You’re King Jan,” he whispers. And he’s beyond embarrassed now. This marriage is off to a great start already. 
The king dips his head politely. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Matthew swiftly says. “I meant no offence, I just—I guess I’m—”
“Cold feet?” 
Matthew goes quiet. He can’t know about that, right? About Matthew’s accursed chill. The frost that seems to be a permanent fixture of his soul. No, how can Jan know about that? It’s a secret, a secret. “I was afraid you were ugly,” Matthew says after a moment’s deliberation. 
“I see.” Jan doesn’t sound bothered by this. He doesn’t sound like he cares. “And, am I?”
“You’re okay. I can work with it.” 
“Good.” 
“I really am sorry,” Matthew says as they approach the palace. “You’re right, I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect…who to expect…” 
“You do not have to marry me if it isn’t your choice.” Jan offers Matthew his ungloved palm. Matthew hesitates. He wouldn’t mind, except—except his skin is so frighteningly cold. But he can’t be rude, so he lets Jan help him off the horse. And Jan, to his credit, doesn’t even seem to notice that Matthew’s palm is literally the temperature of ice. 
“Thank you for saying that. But we both know that political marriages are…well, about politics.” 
“Still. All you would have to say is no.” 
Why is that the sexiest thing Matthew has ever heard? How pathetic is he? Wow. 
Jan sits him down on the large steps that enter the grand foyer, and calls for one of the servants to get medicine. When she returns, it is with bandages and antiseptic and Alfred, who has, of course, heard of Matthew’s disappearance and subsequent injury. Talk moves fast. “Matthew!” he cries, aghast, as Jan gently cleans the wound. 
“It’s not bad, I swear. It’s just a scrape.” 
“What were you even doing?” 
“I…” he falters. Jan glances up from his ministrations, his summer green eyes dancing with humour. Matthew’s cheeks heat up. He doesn’t usually blush or get warm at all so this is unusual and he likes the sensation. 
Jan swoops in. “I had taken him riding. He fell off the horse. It was my negligence. I am to blame.” 
Alfred wasn’t born yesterday. “Matthew knows how to ride a horse.” 
Now they’re both looking at him. Expectant. Waiting. It’s his turn to add to this stupid charade and it’s all his fault to begin with. “I got distracted by…the King’s eyes.” 
A smirk spreads across Jan’s lips, slow and entirely self-satisfied. Alfred makes a noise like he’s swallowing a laugh, and walks off, chuckling heartily to himself. Matthew covers his face with his hands and mumbles, “Sorry, Your Majesty, I could think of no other excuse…” 
“You’re fine.” Jan is still smirking. “And you are done,” he adds, his palm ghosting over the bandages around his leg. “The poltuice will begin to work soon and by tomorrow it will be like you were never hurt.” 
He stands, and offers his hand to help Matthew stand too. Their fingers entwine, and Matthew thinks that this might not be the nightmare he has imagined. Jan is handsome, charming, gentlemanly, and seems to respect Matthew’s opinions. Maybe, just maybe, this is a match made in heaven after all. 
So later, when Matthew rests his leg in the bridal suite and Alfred walks in, he says, “I am agreeing to this match.” 
Alfred grins widely and says, “I knew you would.” 
They are wed in the morning, in front of the court and the kingdom. Jan kisses him chastely, lips barely touching, but Matthew’s stomach still soars with pleasure because the king is only shy, and it’s pretty strange to be married in front of a whole country. 
They dance the day away. Matthew smiles so wide his face is hurting and the subjects—his new subjects, technically—bow to him as he is given his title. His Royal Highness Matthew Williams von Aldenberg, King Consort of the Crown of Tulips. The title comes with land and money and power and privilege and it means that his older brother, his cherished older brother, bows to him before he hugs him, and salutes instead of waving goodbye.
That hurts. Matthew will not admit to it, though. He must be positive. This is a good thing. 
The guests leave just before sunset and Jan takes him by the hand and leads him into a golden carriage, decorated with bouquets. “Let me show you to your new home,” he whispers, kissing Matthew on the jaw. 
“I won’t live in the palace?” Matthew asks curiously. 
“Not this one. This is for official business.” 
The ride is short in the swift royal horses. Soon they are bursting through the gates of an enormous property. Servants wait at the grand entrance, and Jan helps Matthew out of the carriage and up the stairs. “This is magnificent,” Matthew murmurs, gazing up at the vaulted ceilings and twinkling torches. Paintings line every wall, the carpets are a deep indigo and embroidered with silver thread. “Is this really to be our new home?”
“It is your new home, yes.”
Matthew pauses. “I don’t understand.” 
Jan stares back. The sun is starting to set and his eyes catch the orange light. “It is a wedding gift. You will live here. You have a full staff at your command, and land to enjoy for hunts or any activities you prefer. I won’t bother you.”
“...What do you mean?” he asks, realisation dawning slowly. “Are you not living here with me? I am your husband…” his chest sinks. “Aren’t we to have a wedding night?”
Jan raises his eyebrows. “You are demanding a wedding night?”
Heat floods Matthew’s cheeks but he barrels on. “It is custom, isn’t it? Have I offended you, Your Majesty? My previous remarks were off-colour, I admit—” he reaches out to touch Jan and Jan takes a step back. It is only years of practice that stop Matthew from bursting into tears. He has done it again. The ice in his veins has frozen another heart. 
“I must go,” Jan says, sounding cold. So cold. 
“But—”
“I must go,” he says louder, and it is a command. His gaze is so angry and terrifying then that Matthew shuts his mouth, teeth clacking in his head. He just watches Jan walk away, back to the carriage, into the darkness of a red sunset. Only then does he let his lashes get wet. 
xx.
If Matthew had magic, that would be one thing. Magic is power and power finds its admirers. But Matthew was born cold in a hot country, his birth coincided with a lunar eclipse, and so he was seen only as weak and unfortunate. He was therefore a child very difficult to love. His father blamed him for everything he could: from the death of his mother to bad luck at sea. The court mistrusted him, and did not think he had any redeeming qualities. He was neither as handsome as his brother, nor as commanding or brilliant, and it was always made clear to him that he would be lucky to find anyone who valued him in any capacity. 
So Matthew is used to being alone. He lies in bed on what should have been his wedding night and imagines Jan caressing and stroking him. It wouldn’t be his first time. Matthew knows his way around brothels. When one is starved for love one learns how to find scraps of it. What could he have done differently? This surely must be Jan’s sick way of punishing him. Father always did say his sharp tongue was going to land him in trouble.
He rolls out of bed. The grand windows allow a pale beam of moonlight to touch his skin. Matthew sighs, ruffling his hair. The perfumes and creams from the morning have long worn off. His curls are haphazard. But he turns to the mirror, anyway. Something happens to him at night, and it’s something nobody has ever been able to explain. 
His skin shines. 
Not a lot. If one is not paying attention to it, one wouldn’t notice. But his skin has a slightly reflective quality in the dark, as if silvered. Alfred used to tease him and say he looked blue and corpselike, but he stopped making that joke when he realised it made Matthew cry. 
He can’t bear to think of all that right now. He pulls the ribbon by the bed to ring for the servants and bids them to draw a bath. He knows it’s an unfair ask. The hour is late and they must be asleep. But he has nothing else to do. 
The next several days are hell. 
Matthew realises very quickly that he is in trouble. Because he is the King Consort, he is not allowed to go out in public. If he wants to shop he must send people to buy things for him, and if he wants to socialise he must only do so in private homes. He can’t be seen walking into a bar. He has no friends, and he doesn’t understand the language spoken by a majority of the people here. He has only the servants for company, and he doesn’t know if he can trust them because they can sense that he is different so they look at him odd and whisper in words he cannot comprehend. He has no way of contacting Alfred save for slow-moving letters, and while he makes endless requests to see Jan, it becomes pretty obvious that Jan doesn’t want to see him. He is always “busy” with “kingly duties”. 
He ends up going for a lot of walks. The property is enormous and the grounds are splendid. This could be his paradise if it wasn’t an ornate prison. 
At least Matthew is good at entertaining himself. In a month he has read fifty palace library books. He has requested expensive art supplies, and painted still lifes. He takes the horses out for runs, over and over, and thinks about the times he and Alfred would race in the fields until the farmers chased them off. No matter how much he fills his hours, he can’t escape the fact that he has never been this lonely before. 
He starts losing his appetite. 
He knows he should eat but he’s too depressed and not hungry and three days later when he gets hit with a dizzy spell and is kept in bed on doctor’s orders, the servants send word to the king that Matthew is poorly. By then Matthew doesn’t even care. He’s so pissed off that he’s sure he’d punch Jan in the teeth if he ever lays eyes on him again. 
At least that would be some comfort! 
What he receives instead is a gift. 
A pageboy presents to him a huge white dog, fluffy as a pillow, with a big, stupid grin. 
“What is this?” Matthew demands. 
The dog barks. 
“A gift, Your Highness. From the king. And a letter.” 
The letter reads, Kuma will remind you that you are not alone. - Jan 
This must be a joke. Surely this is a joke! Matthew gapes down at the dog and back at the pageboy, and his stupefaction must be evident because the fellow smiles nervously and says, “Will you be crafting a response, Your Highness?” 
Matthew rips up the letter and walks off. 
xx.
He thinks about running away. But he doesn’t have any concrete plans. And he’s too tired and too depressed to think of anything. And then, only a week later, he is informed of the Tulip Harvest Festival. 
Everyone will be present. It’s a parade in the capital where the King will give a speech. All the nobles will be there, and as King Consort, it is Matthew’s first official duty. He needs to sit with his husband, hand in unloving hand, and pretend to be glowing with honeymoon bliss. His clothes are already sewn for the occasion: bright yellow robes with red and green floral embroidery, obviously. He gets ready in silent fury and is driven out in a royal carriage to meet Jan. 
The palace of official business, where they got married, has been decked up in banners and flowers. Jan waits for him at the gallery that looks over the street. He has the audacity to smile. “Matthew,” he says, and tries to kiss him. 
Matthew jumps back. Jan pulls away, shocked, hurt. 
“Matthew,” he tries again. “How did you like your gift?” 
At this point Matthew is almost apoplectic, but he can’t yell because everyone will hear him, so he smiles bitterly and says, “I’m surprised you remember my name.” 
“What do you mean?” Jan asks steadily. He tries to take Matthew’s hand. Matthew pulls away. 
“I am going to pretend to be in love with you today because that is my duty. But I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.”
His words have their impact. Jan’s face crumbles, and he looks genuinely heartbroken. “I apologise for causing you offense,” he murmurs, and Matthew just gives him a dirty look. They’re made to step out onto the balcony and wave to the crowd, then, and the whole show begins. 
Throughout the penance that is the day, Jan tries to catch his eyes. Over lunch he even offers Matthew a candied flower, of all things, which is a local delicacy. Matthew only accepts because Jan’s entire court is at the table watching their every interaction. He listens with forced smiles and feigned interests as the ministers talk about trade and ships and the way an unexpected high tide nearly swallowed a pier. Matthew grips his fork tight and thinks, please don’t blame that on me. He’s terrified these people will somehow blame him the way his father used to blame him. But the real low point though, is when one of Jan’s men comes to him and whispers something. Matthew hears the words, “Gilbert” and “waiting”. 
Jan’s eyes widen, and he excuses himself. The whole table rises when he does, and only sits when he leaves the dining room. Matthew watches him go with a sinking feeling. Who the hell is Gilbert? 
He can’t bear it. Why did Jan leap up to meet this Gilbert while he can’t even sit through lunch with Matthew?  
Enough is enough. Matthew is not going to let himself be forgotten about. He is the King Consort. He is the second most powerful man in this godforsaken country. He will get some answers. 
So he excuses himself too. Everyone stands, again. The guards lining the walls exchange glances but he ignores them, and goes charging after Jan. He hears their voices come from a locked room just down the hallway. Matthew waits at the door, and listens. 
“I want to see you tonight,” Jan is saying. 
Matthew’s stomach crashes to the floor and he swallows to combat the burn in his throat. 
Another voice, Gilbert, says, “I’ll be there. Same place?”
“Same place.” 
No, no, no, this is his worst nightmare. But it would explain everything. Jan is sleeping with this Gilbert person. That’s why he’s been avoiding Matthew. He isn’t attracted to Matthew. Gilbert is probably handsome and charming and warm. 
Matthew tears away from the door, eyes stinging, That’s that, then. How foolish of Matthew to expect anything better. They were probably lovers long before Matthew was ever in the picture, and Gilbert probably is of a lesser station. Maybe that’s why Jan had to marry Matthew. It all makes sense. 
As he’s walking away, the door swings open, and a pair of footsteps squeak to a halt. Matthew can’t help himself. He turns to look. He needs to know.
Gilbert…is striking. He’s short, but handsome, with the strangest eyes and hair. Jan’s jaw is slack, appalled that Matthew caught him in the act. Gilbert, however, squints at Matthew with his chin stuck out, as if he’s pondering some curiosity. 
“What are you doing here?” Jan demands. 
“His Majesty’s meal is getting cold,” Matthew remarks archy. “But I suppose he has other ways to stay warm.” 
Gilbert purses his lips together in an ‘o’ shape. There is a grin dancing in his cheeks. He has the audacity to grin! 
Jan raises his brows. “You misunderstand. You half-hear something and jump to conclusions. You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.” 
“Forgive me,” Matthew snipes, “I forgot that you are above reproach.”
“That’s not what I—”
“From henceforth,” Matthew swivels on his heels to leave, “I’ll stay well out of your way.” 
“Matthew,” Jan says. “Just wait, please—”
Matthew knows what he must do. He must go back to lunch and be the perfect husband. But instead marches down the steps until he runs into a servant, and tells her to get his carriage. She scurries off, startled but quick-footed, and soon enough Matthew is well on his way back to his gilded cage. 
Everyone is going to gossip about why the King Consort just up and left.
But let them talk. 
xx.
He cries himself to sleep. And then starts awake, heart racing. The house is so quiet, the grounds so dark. Only the moon keeps him company, bright and cold and lonely. Matthew wipes his eyes and stands out on the balcony, pulling his coat close. He sticks his hand out so the moonlight touches his skin. His fingers are long and slender and seem to glow softly. He sighs, retreating to the warmth of the bedroom. He unstoppers a bottle of ink and pens a letter.
Dear Alfred, 
It’s…it’s bad here. I want to come home. I don’t expect you to drop everything to save me. But, if I get out of this predicament and come to you, would you let me stay? 
We used to be friends once. 
Your loving brother,  Matthew. 
Once the ink dries, Matthew seals the letter in wax and keeps it ready on the desk. He’ll ask one of the servants to post it first thing tomorrow. 
Except, the moment doesn’t come. 
“Hey!”
Matthew nearly backwards falls off his chair. His heart thuds in his ears as he jumps to his feet. There is a man on the balcony. There is a man on the balcony. His hair, silver like the moon. His eyes, red like garnets. Matthew’s lips part. “Y-you!” he cries. Has Gilbert come to murder him? “Guards!” he tries, making for the door. “Guards!”
“Oh, calm down.” Gilbert materialises in front of him, ghostlike, standing between Matthew and the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, Your Highness. I just want to talk.”
Matthew takes several steps back. “What are you?” he demands, though his voice shakes. His hand is reaching, ever so slowly, for the poker by the fireplace. 
“I’m a witch! I specialise in curses.” 
Matthew’s hand stills. Gilbert raises his eyebrows. 
“I have your attention now. You’re cursed, aren’t you? Don’t lie,” he drawls, “I can see it on you.” He goes over to the desk and notices the letter. He smirks down at it, and tears it right open. 
“Hey! That’s private!”
“Aw, this is heartbreaking!” he coos, reading it. “You two star-crossed lovers really do wreck me.” He throws the letter down and turns back to Matthew. “You know what how many lunar eclipses there are a year?” He pauses for dramatic effect. “About two or three. Perfectly normal phenomenon. Except,” he regards Matthew up and down. “Except, the one that coincided with your birth.”
“...How do you know about that?” Matthew whispers, stunned. 
Gilbert shrugs. “A lunar eclipse was not expected that night. But you were born, and the moon lost its light.” He approaches now, his fingers reaching out to cup Matthew’s chin. He looks straight into Matthew’s eyes, and says, “You stole the light, didn’t you? Snatched it straight from the sky when you drew your first breath. Ripped it off the moon’s surface and kept it for yourself.” 
“I don’t know what you mean,” Matthew says, staring into those red eyes. “You’re a madman.” He shoves Gilbert off. “Get away from me.” 
“When you stole its light you stole some of its power,” Gilbert declares, and Matthew freezes. Gilbert’s smile is faint, sad. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you’re so cold? Why your skin shines so softly in the dark? Why the tides get erratic when you’re upset?” 
“The tides don’t get erratic when I’m upset!” Matthew cries. “My mood cannot control the sea! My father used to scream at me about it, too.”
“I’m sure that only made things worse.” Gilbert sighs loudly, leaning against the desk with his arms crossed. “Look, I don’t know how you got this power. Weird things happen. I was born with magic too, for no good reason. My family are all farmers, you know? There’s just no explanation sometimes. But I do know this. The king needs your help.” 
Oh, this is rich. 
“The king already has you,” Matthew sneers. “He doesn’t need me.” 
“Yeah, okay, about that? I’m not his lover. I’m his healer.”
That gives Matthew pause. “The king is sick?” He looks Gilbert up and down. “The king is… cursed?” 
“Yes,” says Gilbert quietly. “I don’t blame you for not knowing. He’s been a real idiot about it. He employed my services just before your wedding, hoping that I could cure him. But I can’t. He was cursed, like you were, at birth. But unlike yours, his curse is…malevolent. It can’t be fixed, I don’t think. But Jan can still be helped. He doesn't know I'm here but I know this is the only way.” 
It’s too much to take in. Matthew sinks down to the edge of the bed. He is just…in total disbelief. He is still furious with Jan. He wants to hold onto that fury. But now all he can think is, I understand why he kept his distance. He did not want to be judged. Matthew knows what that feels like.
At last, Matthew looks up. “Tell me about his curse.” 
xx.
From the outside, Jan’s palace looks like any other. It is closely guarded and twinkling with torchlight. But Gilbert’s expression is grim, and Matthew notices that the upper storey windows are all dark. “That’s how he prefers it,” Gilbert explains in a whisper. They’d teleported here, with the witch’s powers. Matthew feels a little shaky from it, but he steadies himself with a breath. 
“Come on,” Matthew says, charging ahead. But Gilbert does not move. 
“You should go alone,” he advises. “I cannot help Jan. I only keep him company. I tried to stay with him but he is inconsolable tonight. It's not my company he really wants.” 
Matthew purses his lips. “I don’t understand, Gilbert. If he wanted me, why did he keep me away? Does he think me so heartless that I’d refuse to accept him just because of a curse?” 
“None of his other suitors accepted him. You must know that.” 
Suddenly Matthew is so angry on Jan’s behalf. Cruel, absolutely cruel! Nobody deserves to be rejected for something they can’t control. Matthew is not afraid of curses because he is a curse himself. And he is not afraid of the dark. 
He approaches the palace doors and the guards try to stop him. “I wish to see my husband,” he declares. And then, “I am going to see him. Take me to him now.” 
They open their mouths to protest.
“Now,” Matthew repeats, eyes narrowed, and they comply. They lead him up ill-lit stairs and long corridors. Another time, maybe Matthew would marvel at the paintings on the walls, but tonight he just wants to see Jan. The guards lead him to a grand bedroom door. 
One of them says, “Your Highness, you might not find anything you like.” 
“Give us privacy,” Matthew orders, and enters the room.
The door shuts behind him, and the world goes dark.
Only faint silver outlines line the furniture. Absent the moon, the darkness would be total. Matthew can make out the shape of the bed and a desk by the window, but that’s it. He can’t see Jan anywhere.
“Your Majesty?” he calls gently. “It’s me.” He turns this way and that. The shadows are thick and impenetrable. But Matthew’s palm reaches into them anyway, slowly feeling his way in the dark. 
He sees Jan before he feels him, a silhouette deeper than the rest. Matthew’s hand lands on him, and slowly, his eyes adjust. Jan’s tall features emerge, his handsome face, his blonde hair, the scar on his brow. He stands over Matthew, his eyes heavy-lidded and so sad. 
Gilbert had told Matthew about the curse. When the sun sets you will be a shadow, so dark that nothing but the moon may reach you. 
“Matthew?” Jan says, confused and broken. “You shouldn’t be here." 
He pulls free of Matthew’s grip, and his body is plunged into darkness again. But Matthew can sense him now. He doesn’t know how. He just knows that he has moonlight in his veins, and the moon is his guide. So he reaches out again and places a palm on Jan’s cheek. “I am here. Do not be afraid.” 
He can see Jan again. His sharp cheekbones, his intelligent eyes. A tear rolls down his face, staining Matthew’s fingers. “I’m sorry,” Jan says. “You are so beautiful and I am barely a man. Every night I turn into—into—”
“You’re my husband,” Matthew interrupts, pulling him into an embrace. Jan is stiff in his arms, just for a moment, and then he breaks, holding Matthew tight, burying his head in Matthew’s shoulder. He sobs, like he has never been allowed to cry before, and Matthew just keeps him close, guiding him towards the bed. 
“I’m sorry,” Jan says, trying to stop crying. He pulls away from Matthew to wipe his eyes and he turns into a shadow once more. Desperately he reaches out for Matthew’s hand. Their fingers brush, and he is visible again. The coldness in Matthew’s palm melts when Jan holds him. He is so warm, and he feels so safe. 
“How is this possible?” Jan asks, gazing down at their entwined fingers. 
“We are cursed in a way that fits.” Matthew pulls Jan’s palm up to his lips and places soft kisses along his knuckles. “You should have told me. You should have trusted me.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you.” 
“Have faith.” Matthew smiles, kissing Jan on his wrist, just above his pulse. Jan’s heart beats against Matthew’s lips, thrumming with life, and Matthew thinks, mine, mine, mine, to have and to hold. “You made me so angry,” Matthew confesses, and starts to laugh. He touches Jan’s face again, and his finger automatically goes to the scar on his brow. He has wanted to touch that since the first time he laid eyes on him. 
“Do you really hate me?” Jan whispers. 
“No, I don’t. I understand why you did it. And I forgive you. Shall we start over?” 
Jan, at last, smiles and nods. His eyes are downcast, but then, he is so shy. “I believe I owe you a wedding night.” 
Matthew chuckles. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 
“I’ve wanted to since I first saw you.” Jan leans in. Their mouths are nearly touching. “You are so beautiful, Matthew.”
“You don’t find me cold?” 
Jan tilts his head. He brushes a curl out of Matthew’s eyes. “You are only cold because you are not being held.” His lips ghost over Matthew’s jaw, and Matthew shivers. “Besides,” Jan says, his voice tickling Matthew’s skin. “I love the snow.” 
Their lips crash against each other, and Matthew thinks of sharp tides and angry currents and how maybe the ships may sink in a sea and piers may drown, but the rocks at the shore are steadfast and eternal and that is what Jan is, Jan is his rock. And that’s his last sensible thought before Jan pushes him back on the bed, peppering his face with kisses. Matthew’s fingers fumble as he pulls off the buttons and clasps on Jan’s magnificent clothes. They’re both wearing so many goddamn layers. 
“D’you need help?” Matthew teases as he pulls off Jan’s shirt, but Jan still struggles with his buttons. 
“I’ve got it,” Jan mutters, as Matthew strokes his hair, messing it up. It always was too perfect. It needs to be mussed from a good fucking. “I’ve never done this before,” Jan confesses. 
Matthew stills his hand. He stares up at Jan, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. “Really? But…but you’re so handsome.” 
Jan bites down a self-conscious smile. “But I’m undesirable.” 
“Unacceptable.” Matthew sits up, and as he does, he pushes Jan down to the bed. In the brief moments when their skin doesn’t touch, Jan fades again. But Matthew doesn’t mind. He’s swift and efficient. He rips Jan’s shirt right off and puts a hand on his very toned chest. “It is unacceptable that you think that. I forbid it. As your husband and as the King Consort. Let me show you how desirable you are.” 
When the sun rises, Matthew is not alone. He feels it. He feels the warmth of another body as Jan slowly brings him to the waking world with soft kisses along his arm. “Hello, beautiful,” Jan, sitting up in bed, whispers. Matthew hums in acknowledgement and pleasure. It’s only this—it’s only this that he’s wanted for the last month. Just someone to wake up to. 
At last, he opens his eyes. Now at dawn, Jan’s curse is quiet, and his body is on full display. Matthew stares openly at his defined chest and toned arms. His blonde hair is all messy from their activities, and Matthew can’t help but ruffle it again. Jan smiles as he catches Matthew’s wrist, placing a kiss right there, on the pulse, just as Matthew had the night before. “Last night was wonderful,” Jan says. 
“For me too.” 
“I’m sorry.”
Matthew watches him and waits.
“I’m sorry,” Jan says again. “For keeping my distance from you. It was unkind of me…” Jan lays down again. Matthew turns to him. Jan is staring at the ceiling. He continues, “I was so preoccupied by what you’d think of me that I didn’t think of what I was putting you through.” 
Matthew kisses his cheek. “I already forgave you. Just don’t keep anything from me again. You’re my husband.” His hand rests on bare Jan’s chest. It rises and falls with every breath. “We’re a team.” 
“Yes.” Jan wraps an arm around Matthew’s shoulders. They lay there contentedly for a bit, until Jan asks, “Did you really hate the dog?”
Matthew bursts out laughing. “Kuma, right? He’s fine, I don’t hate him. He likes to eat fish. I’ve never seen a dog that eats fish like that. You should visit him.” 
Jan hums. “No, he should live with us.” 
That’s all the confirmation Matthew needs. He nestles his head in Jan’s neck and shuts his eyes. They are both cursed. But with the right people, curses don’t feel so terrible. By some strange and wonderful fate, they have found each other. And they will be with each other, even in the darkest of nights, even in an absent moon.
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ARE THERE ANY OTHER ALMOST ADV. TO NOVELLA LITERATE HETALIA RPERS
im at the point i'll do almost any ship except ameripan.
Just no ocs, and nyos.
Gotta be 18+
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