The Book of Love | Rose's Fics

General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)

Minochi | Cole | Minoth, Adel Orudou | Addam Origo, Adel Orudou | Addam Origo's Wife

Torna: The Golden Country DLC, Relationship Study, Polyamory, Love Languages, Vignettes, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, Dialogue Only, No Dialogue, Inspired by Music, Source: Peter Gabriel

I happen to think that there's, oh, everything in it.

Chapters

Chapter 01: instructions for dancing
Chapter 02: you can read me anything
Chapter 03: music so transcendentally dumb
Chapter 04: you can sing me anything
Chapter 05: flowers and heart-shaped boxes
Chapter 06: you can give me anything
Chapter 07: you ought to give me wedding rings

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to dance, Addam?"

"I'm afraid not - did anyone ever teach you?"

"Nah. I'm just a quick study, is all."

"Oh, really?"

"Sure. Now, if Flora and I were to do one of these, and one of these, and one of these, would you be able to follow along?"

"I don't think so. I'd be too busy watching."

"Oh, Addam, come now, it's no fun for us if we can't dance with you, too."

"You say that as if three people can dance together to begin with."

"Oh, I'm sure we can - whose stiff instructions are those? Here, take one hand from me and one from Minoth."

Of course all three of them are perfectly able to read whatever texts, whether those be accounts or reports, chronicles or tales, and of course Minoth (and even Addam) has his perfectly theatrical spin on the words of the moment, but quite often they like to listen to Flora read the best, because she's the most sensible and the most efficient and the most adorable to watch, when she gets into her concentration.

It could be the most drab, inane thing, or something completely horrifying, but her inflection trots on exactly the same, giving gravitas one can hardly even catch. She's very good at what she does. Quite perfect, in love.

"You know what I've realized?"

"What's that, Flora?"

"Oh, it's quite strange, but I think my favorite type of love songs are the ones that have a...oh, what do you call it, the air of when you're dying of old age? You know?"

"Well, but if they're love songs, then I rather think that that should include growing old together first, before you die."

"Sometimes it does, but not always explicitly."

"So you mean like if I said, oh, something and something and silly things...you give me life, dear; you give me wings...?"

"Architect's sake, Minoth, what on Alrest does that mean?"

"It means I love you. What else?"

Flora hums; Addam belts. Sure enough, they're musical, but it's not the same as when Minoth, that man of far too many talents, sings. Once they find out just how well he can carry a tune, and how he knows it, he'll peddle music anywhere.

In the kitchen, Flora's stirring soup. He walks up behind her, wraps his arms around her shoulders, whispers cadences in her ears.

On the moor, Addam's pulling weeds. Perched on the porch roof, Minoth sings that same song of Torna, loud and clear as can be.

They say his lyrics are silly, but he just shrugs. Maybe he didn't write them. They're listening anyway, aren't they?

"Addam, what's this?"

"What's what, darling?"

"What's this silly little box on the counter?"

"Could be all manner of things. What shape boxes do you usually go for, huh, Prince?"

"Well, if it's the one I'm thinking of, it's a heart shape. Is that it, Flora?"

"Yes, that's it. Is it for me?"

"If you like it, then yes."

"And if she doesn't?"

"If she doesn't, then I suppose you should just take it, hmm? Is that what you want? You wily bastard, you."

"I don't think Minoth would be particularly interested in a necklace made for a lady, with flowers and stars and sparkles all over it."

"No? Try me."

Despite not being fully risen to his station, whether by nature or nurture or otherwise, Addam knows how to take advantage of being part of the royal family. It's not that he was denied, in youth, and it's not that he places no value on discretion, certainly not. But whatever is wanted, by even the finest hair's breadth of an ask, he gives. It's simply his way.

For Flora, all flowers, every bloom in every hue, and the classic tag that none could ever compare. For Minoth, stationery and the beautifully crafted like merely offering silent support for such an honorable trade.

And of course, to both of them, his heart.

"Minoth, can I ask you something?"

"Just did, Prince."

"I suppose I did - oh, come off it! Tell me, really, do you ever feel...lesser, or left out, because we're, well, married, and you're not?"

"Not particularly. Why?"

"Why? Well, because it's important, that's why."

"I thought we might get rings, all three of us."

"Wedding rings?"

"No, silly, friendship bracelets. Of course, wedding rings."

"You mean, dear Flora, my one and only princess, that you think you're not already my best friend?"

"What, and not me?"

"A man can have two, can't he? And that's the only tale I care to tell."

"Oh, and what a lovely one it is."